PS 

1667 

H769 


THE  LIBRARY 

OF 
THE  UNIVERSITY 

OF  CALIFORNIA 
LOS  ANGELES 


HOOSIER 
LYRICS 

BY 

EUGENE  FIELD 


AUTHOR  OF 


THE  CLINK  OF  THE   ICE,  JOHN  SMITH, 
U.  S.  A.,    IN    WINK-A-WAY-LAND,   ETC. 


M.  A.  DONOHUE  &  COMPANY 

407-429  DEARBORN  ST. 

CHICAGO,  ILL. 


COPYRIGHTED  1905 

BY 

M.  A.  DONOHUE  &  Co. 


M.  A.    DONOH  U  E  &.  COMPANY 

PRINTERS  AND    BINDERS 
4O7-429      DEARBORN      STREET 

CHICAGO 


\\o\cT\ 

INTRODUCTION.  \V\\cft 

From  whatever  point  of  view  the  character  of 
Eugene  Field  is  seen,  genius — rare  and  quaint 
presents  itself  is  childlike  simplicity.  That  he 
was  a  poet  of  keen  perception,  of  rare  discrimina- 
tion, all  will  admit.  He  was  a  humorist  as  deli- 
cate and  fanciful  as  Artemus  Ward,  Mark  Twain, 
Bill  Nye,  James  Whitcomb  Riley,  Opie  Read,  or 
Bret  Harte  in  their  happiest  moods.  Within 
him  ran  a  poetic  vein,  capable  of  being  worked 
in  any  direction,  and  from  which  he  could,  at  will, 
extract  that  which  his  imagination  saw  and  felt 
most.  That  he  occasionally  left  the  child-world, 
in  which  he  longed  to  linger,  to  wander  among 
the  older  children  of  men,  where  intuitively  the 
hungry  listener  follows  him  into  his  Temple  of 
Mirth,  all  should  rejoice,  for  those  who  knew  him 
not,  can  while  away  the  moments  imbibing  the 
genius  of  his  imagination  in  the  poetry  and  prose 
here  presented. 

Though  never  possessing  an  intimate  acquaint- 
anceship with  Field,  owing  largely  to  the  dis- 
parity in  our  ages,  still  there  existed  a  bond  of 
3 


1254185 


4  INTRODUCTION 

friendliness  that  renders  my  good  opinion  of  him 
in  a  measure  trustworthy.  Born  in  the  same 
city,  both  students  in  the  same  college,  engaged 
at  various  times  in  newspaper  work  both  in  St. 
Louis  and  Chicago,  residents  of  the  same  ward, 
with  many  mutual  friends,  it  is  not  surprising 
that  I  am  able  to  say  of  him  that  "the  world  is 
better  off  that  he  lived,  not  in  gold  and  silver  or 
precious  jewels,  but  in  the  bestowal  of  priceless 
truths,  of  which  the  possessor  of  this  book  be- 
comes a  benefactor  of  no  mean  share  of  his 
estate." 

Every  lover  of  Field,  whether  of  the  songs  of 
childhood  or  the  poems  that  lend  mirth  to  the 
out-pouring  of  his  poetic  nature,  will  welcome 
this  unique  collection  of  his  choicest  wit  and 
humor. 

CHARLES  WALTER  BROWN. 

Chicago,  January,  1905. 


CONTENTS. 


PAGE. 

Hoosier  Lyrics  Paraphrased 9 

Gettin'  On 14 

Minnie  Lee 16 

Answer  to  Minnie  Lee 17 

Lizzie 18 

Our  Lady  of  the  Mine 20 

Penn-Yan  Bill 25 

Ed 31 

How  Salty  Win  Out 33 

His  Queen 36 

Answer  to  His  Queen 37 

Alaskan  Balladry — Skans  in  Love 38 

The  Biggest  Fish 39 

Bonnie  Jim  Campbell 42 

Lyman,  Frederick  and  Jim 44 

A  Wail 46 

Clendenin's  Lament 48 

On  the  Wedding  of  G.  C 49 

To  G.  C 51 

To  Dr.  F.  W.  R 52 

Horace's  Ode  to  "Lydia"  Roche 54 

A  Paraphrase,  Circa  1715 56 

A  Paraphrase,  Ostensibly  by  Dr.  I.  W 57 

Horace  I.,  27 58 

Heine's  "Widow  or  Daughter" 59 

Horace  II.,  20 60 

5 


6  CONTENTS. 

PAGE. 

Horace's  Spring  Poem,  Odes  I.,  4 62 

Horace  to  Ligurine,  Odes  IV.,  10 64 

Horace  on  His  Muscle,  Epode  VI 65 

Horace  to  Maecenas,  Odes  III.,  29 66 

Horace  in  Love  Again,  Epode  XI 68 

"Good-By—God  Bless  You! " 70 

Horace,  Epode  XIV 72 

Horace  I.,  23 74 

A  Paraphrase 75 

A  Paraphrase  by  Chaucer 76 

Horace  I.,  5 77 

Horace  I.,  20 78 

Envoy 78 

Horace  II.,  7 79 

Horace  I.,  11 81 

Horace  I.,  13 82 

Horace  IV.,  1 83 

Horace  to  His  Patron 85 

The  "Ars  Poetica"  of  Horace— XVIII 87 

Horace  I.,  34 88 

Horace  L,  33 89 

The  "Ars  Poetica"  of  Horace  1 91 

The  Great  Journalist  in  Japan 93 

Reid,  the  Candidate 95 

A  Valentine 97 

Kissing-Time 98 

The  Fifth  of  July 100 

Picnic-Time 101 

The  Romance  of  a  Watch 103 

Our  Baby 104 

The  Color  that  Suits  Me  Best. . .  .106 


CONTENTS.  7 

PAGE. 

How  to  "Fill" 108 

Politics  in  1888 109 

The  Baseball  Score 110 

Chicago  Newspaper  Life 112 

The  Mighty  West 114 

April 116 

Report  of  the  Baseball  Game 118 

The  Rose 120 

Kansas  City  vs.  Detroit 121 

Me  and  Bilkammle 122 

To  the  Detroit  Baseball  Club 124 

A  Ballad  of  Ancient  Oaths 125 

An  Old  Song  Revised 128 

The  Grateful  Patient 130 

The  Beginning  and  the  End 131 

Clare  Market 133 

Uncle  Ephraim 135 

Thirty-Nine 138 

Horace  I.,  18 141 

Three  Rineland  Drinking  Songs 143 

The  Three  Tailors 147 

Morning  Hymn 150 

Doctors 151 

Ben  Apfelgarten 155 

In  Holland...  .   158 


HOOSIER  LYRICS  PARAPHRASED. 


We've  come  from  Indiany,  five  hundred  miles  or 

more, 
Supposin'  we  wuz  goin'  to  get  the  nominashin, 

shore ; 

For  Col.  New  assured  us  (in  that  noospaper  o'  his) 
That  we  cud  hev  the  airth,  if  we'd  only  tend  to 

biz. 
But  here  we've  been  a-slavin'  more  like  bosses  than 

like  men 
To  diskiver  that  the  people  do  not  hanker  arter 

Ben; 
It  is  fur  Jeems  G.  Blaine  an'  not  for  Harrison 

they  shout — 
And  the  gobble-uns  'el  git  us 

Ef  we 
Don't 
Watch 
Out! 


When  I  think  of  the  fate  that  is  waiting  for  Ben, 
I  pine  for  the  peace  of  my  childhood  again; 
I  wish  in  my  sorrow  I  could  strip  to  the  soul 
And  hop  off  once  more  in  the  old  swimmin'  hole! 


10  EOOSIER  LYRICS. 

. 

The  world  is  full  of  roses,  and  the  roses  full  of  dew 
(Which  is  another  word  for  soup)  that  drips  for 
me  and  you. 


"Little  Benjy!  Little  Benjy!"  chirps  the  robin  in 

the  tree; 
"Little  Benjy!"  sighs  the  clover,  "Little  Benjy!" 

moans  the  bee; 
"Little  Benjy!  Little  Benjy!"  murmurs  John  C. 

New, 
A-stroking  down  the  whiskers  which    the    winds 

have  whistled  through. 


Looks  jest  like  his  grampa,  who's  dead  these  many 

years — 
He  wears  the  hat  his  grampa  wore,  pulled  down 

below  his  ears; 
We'd  like  to  have  him  four  years  more,  but  if  he 

cannot  stay — 
Nothin'  to  say,  good  people;  nothin'  at  all  to  say! 


There,  little  Ben,  don't  cry! 

They  have  busted  your  boom,  I  know; 
And  the  second  term 
For  which  you  squirm 
Has  gone  where  good  niggers  go! 
But  Blaine  is  safe,  and  the  goose  hangs  high — 
There,  little  Ben,  don't  cry! 


HOOSIER  LYRICS.  11 

Mabbe  we'll  git  even  for  this  unexpected  shock, 
When  the  frost  is  on  the  pumpkin  and  the  fodder's 
in  the  shock! 


Oh,  the  newspaper  man!  He  works  for  paw; 

He's  the  liveliest  critter  Jat  ever  you  saw; 

With  whiskers  'at  reach  f 'om  his  eyes  to  his  throat. 

He  knows  how  to  wheedle  and  rivet  a  vote; 

He  wunst  wuz  a  consul  'way  over  the  sea — 

But  never  again  a  consul  he'll  be! 

He  come  back  f 'om  Lon'on  one  mornin'  in  May — 

He  come  back  for  bizness,  an'  here  he  will  stay — 

Ain't  he  a  awful  slick  newspaper  man? 

A  newspaper,  newspaper,  newspaper  man! 


You  kin  talk  about  yer  cities  where  the  politicians 
meet — 

You  kin  talk  about  yer  cities  where  a  decent  man 
gits  beat ; 

With  the  general  run  o'  human  kind  I  beg  to  dis- 
agree— 

The  little  town  of  Tailholt  is  good  enough  f'r  me! 

Chicago  was  a  pleasant  town  in  eighteen-eighty- 

eight, 
And  I  have  lived  in  Washington    long  time    in 

splendid  state; 


12  HOOSIER  LYRICS. 

But  all  the  present  prospects  are  that  after  ninety- 
three 

The  little  town  o'  Tailholt  '11  be  good  enough  f  'r 
me! 


"I  wunst  lived  in  Indiany,"  said  a  consul,  gaunt 

and  grim, 
As  most  of  us  Elaine  delegates  wuz  kind  o'  guyin' 

him; 
"I  wunst  lived  in  Indiany,  and  my  views  wuz 

widely  read, 
Fur  I  run  a  daily  paper    w'ich    'Lije    Halford 

edited ; 
But  since  I've  been  away  f'm  home,  my  paper 

(seems  to  me) 

Ain't  nearly  such  a  inflooence  ez  wot  it  used  to  be; 
So,  havin'  done  with  consulin',  I'm  goin'  to  make 

a  break 
Towards  making  of  a  paper  like  the  one  I  used  to 

make." 


Think,  if  you  kin,  of  his  term  mos'  through, 
An'  that  ol'  man  wantin'  a  secon'  term,  too; 
Picture  him  bendin'  over  the  form 

Of  his  consul-gineril,  stanch  an'  grim, 
Who  has  stood  the  brunt  of  that  jimblain  storm — 

An'  that  ol'  man  jest  wrapt  up  in  him! 
An'  the  consul-gineril,  with  eyes  all  bleared 
An?  a  haunted  look  in  his  ashen  beard, 


HOOSIER  LYEIC8.  13 

Kind  o'  gasp  in'  a  feeble  way — 
But  soothed  to  hear  the  ol'  man  say 
In  a  meaning  tone   (as  one  well  may 

When  words  are  handy  and  's  to  pay) : 

"Good-by,  John;  take  care  of  yo'self!" 


14  HOOSIER  LYRICS. 


GETTIN'  ON. 


When  I  wuz  somewhat  younger, 

I  wuz  reckoned  purty  gay — 
I  had  my  fling  at  everything 

In  a  rollickin',  coltish  way, 
But  times  have  strangely  altered 

Since  sixty  years  ago — 
This  age  of  steam  an'  things  don't  seem 

Like  the  age  I  used  to  know, 
Your  modern  innovations 

Don't  suit  me,  I  confess, 
As  did  the  ways  of  the  good  ol'  days — 

But  I'm  gettin'  on,  I  guess. 

I  set  on  the  piazza 

An'  hitch  around  with  the  sun — 
Sometimes,  mayhap,  I  take  a  nap, 

Waitin'  till  school  is  done, 
An'  then  I  tell  the  children 

The  things  I  done  in  youth, 
An'  near  as  I  can  (as  a  venerable  man) 

I  stick  to  the  honest  truth! 
But  the  looks  of  them  'at  listen 

Seems  sometimes  to  express 
The  remote  idee  that  I'm  gone — you  see! 

An'  I  am  gettin'  on,  I  guess. 


H008IER  LYRICS.  15 

I  get  up  in  the  mornin', 

An'  nothin'  else  to  do, 
Before  the  rest  are  up  and  dressed 

I  read  the  papers  through; 
I  hang  'round  with  the  women 

All  day  an'  hear  'em  talk, 
An'  while  they  sew  or  knit  I  show 

The  baby  how  to  walk ; 
An'  somehow,  I  feel  sorry 

When  they  put  away  his  dress 

An'  cut  his  curls  ('cause  they're  like  a  girl's)  — 

I'm  gettin'  on,  I  guess! 


Sometimes,  with  twilight  round  me, 

I  see  (or  seem  to  see) 
A  distant  shore  where  friends  of  yore 

Linger  and  watch  for  me; 
Sometimes  I've  heered  'em  callin' 

So  tenderlike   'nd  low 
That  it  almost  seemed  like  a  dream  I  dreamed, 

Or  an  echo  of  long  ago; 
An'  sometimes  on  my  forehead 

There  falls  a  soft  caress, 
Or  the  touch  of  a  hand — you  understand — 

I'm  gettin'  on,  I  guess. 


16  HOOSIER  LYRICS. 


MINNIE  LEE. 


Writing  from  an  Indiana  town  a  young  woman 
asks:  "Is  the  enclosed  poem  worth  anything?" 
We  find  that  the  poem  is  as  follows: 

She  has  left  us,  our  own  darling — 
And  we  never  more  shall  see 

Here  on  earth  our  dearly  loved  one — 
God  has  taken  Minnie  Lee. 

Her  heart  was  full  of  goodness 
And  her  face  was  fair  to  see 

And  her  life  was  full  of  beauty — 
How  we  miss  our  Minnie  Lee! 

But  her  work  on  earth  is  over 

And  her  spirit  now  is  free 
She  has  gone  to  live  in  heaven — 

Shall  we  weep  for  Minnie  Lee? 

Would  we  call  our  angel  darling 

Back  again  across  the  sea? 
No!  but  sometime  up  in  heaven 

We  will  meet  loved  Minnie  Lee. 


H008IEE  LYEICS.  17 

To  the  question  as  to  whether  this  poem  is  worth 
anything  we  chose  to  answer  in  verse  as  follows : 

Sweet  poetess,  your  poetry 

Is  bad  as  bad  can  be, 
And  yet  we  heartily  deplore 

The  death  of  Minnie  Lee. 


It  would  have  pleased  us  better 
If,  in  His  wisdom,  He 

Had  taken  you,  sweet  poetess, 
Instead  of  Minnie  Lee. 


Your  turn  will  come,  however, 
And  swift  and  sure  'twill  be 

If  you  continue  sending 
Your  rhymes  on  Minnie  Lee. 


From  this  we  hope  you  will  gather 

A  dim  surmise  that  we 
Don't  take  much  stock  in  poems 

Concerning  Minnie  Lee. 


18  EOOSIER  LYRICS. 


LIZZIE,. 


I  wonder  ef  all  wimmin  air 

Like  Lizzie  is  when  we  go  out 
To  theaters  an'  concerts  where 

Is  things  the  papers  talk  about. 
Do  other  wimmin  fret  and  stew 

Like  they  wuz  bein'  crucified — 
Frettin'  a  show  or  a  concert  through, 

With  wonderin'  ef  the  baby  cried? 


Now  Lizzie  knows  that  gran 'ma's  there 

To  see  that  everything  is  right, 
Yet  Lizzie  thinks  that  gran 'ma's  care 

Ain't  good  enuf  f'r  baby,  quite; 
Yet  what  am  I  to  answer  when 

She  kind  uv  fidgets  at  my  side, 
An'  every  now  and  then; 

"I  wonder  ef  the  baby  cried?" 


Seems  like  she  seen  two  little  eyes 
A-pinin'   f'r  their  mother's   smile — 

Seems  like  she  heern  the  pleadin'  cries 
Uv  one  she  throka  uv  all  the  while ; 


HOOSIER  LYRICS.  19 

An'  she's  sorry  that  she  come, 

'An'  though  she  allus  tries  to  hide 

The  truth,  she'd  rather  stay  to  hum 
Than  wonder   ef  the  baby   cried. 


Yes,  wimmin  folks  is  all  alike — 

By  Lizzie  you  kin  jedge  the  rest- 
There  never  was  a  little  tyke, 

But  that  his  mother  loved  him  best, 
And  nex'  to  bein'  what  I  be — 

The  husband  of  my  gentle  bride — 
I'd  wisht  I  wuz  that  croodlin'  wee, 

With  Lizzie  wonderin'  ef  I  cried. 


20  HOOSIER  LYRICS. 


OUR  LADY  OF  THE  MINE. 


The  Blue  Horizon  wuz  a  mine  us  fellers  all  thought 

well  uv, 
And  there  befell  the   episode  I  now  perpose  to 

tell  uv; 
'Twuz  in  the  year  of  sixty-nine — somewhere  along 

in  summer — 

There  hove  in  sight  one  afternoon  a  new  and  curi- 
ous comer; 
His  name  wuz  Silas  Pettibone — an  artist  by  per- 

fession, 
With  a  kit  of  tools  and  a  big  mustache  and  a  pipe 

in  his  possession; 
He  told  us,  by  our  leave,  he'd  kind  uv  like  to  make 

some  sketches 
Uv  the  snowy  peaks,  'nd  the  foamin'  crick,  'nd  the 

distant  mountain  stretches; 
"You're  welkim,  sir,"  sez  we,  although  this  scenery 

dodge  seemed  to  us 
A  waste  uv  time  where  scenery  wuz  already  sooper- 

floo-us. 

All  through  the  summer  Pettibone  kep'  busy  at  his 

sketchin' — 
At  daybreak,  off  for  Eagle  Pass,    and    home  at 

nightfall,  fetchin' 


HOOSIER  LYRICS.  21 

That  everlastin'  book  uv  his  with  spider  lines  all 

through  it — 
Three-Fingered  Hoover  used  to  say  there  warn't 

no  meanin'  to  it — 
"God  durn  a  man?"  sez  he  to  him,  "whose  shif ' less 

hand  is  sot  at 
A-drawin'  hills  that's  full  of  quartz  that's  pinin' 

to  be  got  at!" 
"Go  on,"  sez  Pettibone,  "go  on,  if  joshin'  gratifies 

ye, 

But  one  uv  these  fine  times,  I'll  show  ye  sumthin'' 

will  surprise  ye!" 
The  which  remark  led  us  to  think — although  he 

didn't  say  it — 
That  Pettibone  wuz  owin'  us  a  gredge  'nd  meant 

to  pay  it. 

One  evenin'  as  we  sat  around  the  restauraw  de 

Casey, 
A-singin'  songs   'nd  tellin'  yarns  the  which  wuz 

sumwhat  racy, 
In  come  that  feller  Pettibone  'nd  sez:  "With  your 

permission 

I'd  like  to  put  a  picture  I  have  made  on  exhibi- 
tion. ' ' 
He  sot  the  picture  on  the  bar  'nd  drew  aside  its 

curtain, 
Say  in':  "I  reeken  you'll  allow  as  how  that's  art, 

f'r  certain!" 
And  then  we  looked,  with  jaws  agape,  but  nary 

word  wuz  spoken, 


22  HOOSIER  LYRICS. 

And  f'r  a  likely  spell  the  charm  uv  silence  wuz 

unbroken — 

Till   presently,   as  in   a   dream,   remarked   Three- 
Fingered  Hoover: 
"Onless  I  am  mistaken,  this  is  Pettibone's  shef 

doover!" 
It  wuz  a  face,  a  human  face — a  woman's,  fair  'nd 

tender, 
Sot  gracefully  upon  a  neck  white  as  a  swan's,  and 

slender ; 
The  hair  wuz  kind  of  sunny,  'nd  the  eyes  wuz  sort 

uv  dreamy, 
The  mouth  wuz  half  a-smilin',  'nd  the  cheeks  wuz 

soft   'nd  creamy; 
It  seemed  like  she  wuz  lookin'  off  into  the  west  out 

yonder, 
And  seemed  like,  while  she  looked,  we  saw  her  eyes 

grow  softer,    fonder — 
Like,   lookin'   off  into   the  west   where   mountain 

mists  wuz  fallin', 
She  saw  the  face  she  longed  to  see  and  heerd  his 

voice  a-callin'; 
"Hooray!"  we  cried;  "a  woman  in  the  camp  uv 

Blue  Horizon — 
Step  right  up,   Colonel  Pettibone,    'nd  nominate 

your  pizen!" 


A  curious  situation — one  deservin'  uv  your  pity — 
No  human,  livin'  female  thing  this  side  of  Denver 
City! 


HOOSIER  LYRICS.  23 

But  jest  a  lot  uv  husky  men  that  lived  on  sand  'nd 

bitters — 
Do  you  wonder  tliat  that  woman 's  face  consoled  the 

lonesome  critters? 
And  not  a  one  but  what  it  served  in  some  way  to 

remind  him 
Of  a  mother  or  a  sister  or  a  sweetheart  left  behind 

him — 
And  some  looked  back  on  happier  days  and  saw 

the  old-time  faces 
And  heerd  the  dear  familiar  sounds  in  old  familiar 

places— 
A  gracious   touch  of    home — "Look    here,"    sez 

Hoover,  "ever 'body 
Quit  thinkin'    'nd  perceed  at  oncet  to  name  his 

favorite  toddy!" 

It  wuzn't  long  afore  the  news    had    spread  the 

country  over, 
And  miners  come  a-flockin'  in  like  honey  bees  to 

clover ; 
It  kind  uv  did  'em  good   they  said,  to  feast  their 

hungry  eyes  on 
That  picture  uv  Our  Lady  in  the  camp  uv  Blue 

Horizon. 

But  one  mean  cuss  from  Nigger  Crick  passed  criti- 
cisms on  'er — 
Leastwise  we  overheerd  him  call  her  Pettibone's 

madonner, 
The  which  we  did  not  take  to  be  respectful  to  a 

lady — 


24  HOOSIER  LYRICS. 

So  we  hung  him  in  a  quiet  spot  that  wuz  cool  'nd 

dry   'nd  shady; 
Which  same  might  not  have  been  good  law,  but  it 

wuz  the  right  maneuver 
To  give  the  critics  due  respect  for  Pettibone  ?s  shef 

doover. 

Gone  is  the  camp — yes,  years  ago,  the  Blue  Horizon 

busted, 
And  every  mother's  son  uv  us  got  up  one  day  'nd 

dusted, 
While  Pettibone  perceeded  east  with  wealth  in  his 

possession 
And  went  to  Yurrup,  as  I  heerd,  to  study  his  per- 

f  ession ; 
So,  like  as  not,  you'll  find  him  now  a-paintin'  heads 

'nd  faces 
At  Venus,   Billy  Florence  and  the  like  I-talyun 

places — 
But  no  such  face  he'll  paint  again  as  at  old  Blue 

Horizon, 
For  I'll  allow  no  sweeter  face  no  human  soul  sot 

eyes  on; 
And  when  the  critics  talk  so  grand  uv  Paris  'nd 

the  loover, 
say:  "Oh,  but  you  orter  seen  the  Pettibone  shef 

doover!" 


HOOSIEB  LYRICS.  25 


PENN-YAN  BILL. 


In  gallus  old  Kentucky,  where  the  grass  is  very 

blue, 
Where  the  liquor  is  the  smoothest  and  the  girls  are 

fair  and  true, 
Where  the  crop  of  he-gawd  gentlemen  is  full  of 

heart  and  sand, 
And  the  stock  of  four-time  winners  is  the  finest  in 

the  land; 

Where  the  democratic  party  in  bourbon  hardihood 
For  more  than  half  a  century  unterrified  has  stood, 
Where  nod  the  black-eyed  Susans  to  the  prattle  of 

the  rill- 
There — there  befell  the  wooing  of  Penn-Yan  Bill. 


II. 

Down  yonder  in  the  cottage  that  is  nestling  in  the 

shade 
Of  the  walnut  trees  that  seem  to  love  that  quiet 

little  glade 

Abides  a  pretty  maiden  of  the  bonny  name  of  Sue — 
As  pretty  as  the  black-eyed  flow'rs  and  quite  as 

modest,  too; 


26  HOOSIER  LYRICS. 

And  lovers  caine  there  by  the  score,  of  every  age 
and  kind, 

But  not  a  one  (the  story  goes)  was  quite  to  Susie's 
mind. 

Their  sighs,  their  protestations,  and  their  plead- 
ings made  her  ill — 

Till  at  once  upon  the  scene  hove  Penn-Yan  Bill. 


III. 

He  came  from  old  Montana  and  he  rode  a  broncho 

mare, 
He  had  a  rather  howd'y'do  and  rough-and-tumble 

air; 
His  trousers  were  of  buckskin  and  his  coat  of  furry 

stuff— 
His  hat  was  drab  of  color  and  its  brim  was  wide 

enough ; 
Upon  each  leg  a  stalwart  boot  reached  just  above 

the  knee, 

And  in  the  belt  about  his  waist  his  weepons  car- 
ried he; 

A  rather  strapping  lover  for  our  little  Susie — still, 
She  was  his  choice  and  he  was  hers,  was  Penn-Yan 

Bill. 

IV. 

We  wonder  that  the  ivy  seeks  out  the  oaken  tree, 
And  twines  her  tendrils  round  him,  though  scarred 
and  gnarled  he  be; 


HOOSIER  LYRICS.  27 

We  wonder  that  a  gentle  girl,  unused  to  worldly 

cares, 
Should  choose  a  man  whose  life  has  been  a  constant 

scrap  with  bears; 
Ah,  'tis  the  nature  of  the  vine,  and  of  the  maiden, 

too— 
So  when  the  bold  Montana  boy  came  from  his  lair 

to  woo, 
The  fair  Kentucky  blossom  felt  all  her  heartstrings 

thrill 
Responsive  to  the  purring  of  Penn-Yan  Bill. 


He  told  her  of  his  cabin  in  the  mountains  far 

away, 
Of  the  catamount  that  howls  by  night,  the  wolf 

that  yawps  by  day ; 

He  told  her  of  the  grizzly  with  the  automatic  jaw, 
He  told  her  of  the  Injun  who  devours  his  victims 

raw ; 
Of  the  jay  hawk  with  his  tawdry  crest  and  whiskers 

in  his  throat, 
Of  the  great  gosh-awful  sarpent  and  the  Rocky 

mountain  goat. 
A  book  as  big  as  Shakespeare's  or  as  Webster's  you 

could  fill 
With   the  yarns  that   emanated   from   Penn-Yan 

Bill! 


28  HOOSIER  LYRICS. 

VI. 

Lo,  as  these  mighty  prodigies  the  westerner  relates, 

Her  pretty  mouth  falls  wide  agape — her  eyes  get 
big  as  plates; 

And  when  he  speaks  of  varmints  that  in  the  Rock- 
ies grow 

She  shudders  and  she  clings  to  him  and  timidly 
cries' 'Oh!" 

And  then  says  he :  "Dear  Susie,  I'll  tell  you  what 
to  do — 

You  be  my  wife,  and  none  of  these  'ere  things  dare 
pester  you!" 

And  she?  She  answers,  clinging  close  and  trem- 
bling yet:  "I  will." 

And  then  he  gives  her  one  big  kiss,  does  Penn-Yan 
Bill. 

VII. 

Avaunt,  ye  poet  lovers,  with  your  wishywashy 
lays! 

Avaunt,  ye  solemn  pedants,  with  your  musty, 
bookish  ways! 

Avaunt,  ye  smurking  dandies  who  air  your  eti- 
quette 

Upon  the  gold  your  fathers  worked  so  long  and 
hard  to  get ! 

How  empty  is  your  nothingness  beside  the  sturdy 
tales 

Which  mountaineers  delight  to  tell  of  border  hills 
and  vales — 


BOOSTER  LYRICS.  29 

Of  snaix  that  crawl,  of  beasts  that  yowl,  of  birds 

that  flap  and  trill 
In  the  wild  egregious  altitude  of  Peun-Yan  Bill. 

VIII. 

Why,  over  all  these  mountain  peaks  his  honest  feet 

have  trod — 
So  high  above  the  rest  of  us  he  seemed  to  walk 

with  God; 
He's  breathed  the  breath  of  heaven,  as  it  floated, 

pure  and  free, 

JYom  the  everlasting  snow-caps  to  the  mighty  west- 
ern sea; 
And  he's  heard  that  awful  silence  which  thunders 

in  the  ear: 
' '  There  is  a  great  Jehovah,  and  His  biding  place  is 

here!" 
These — these  solemn  voices  and  these  the  sights 

that  thrill 
In  the  far-away  Montana  of  Penn-Yan  Bill. 

IX. 

Of  course  she  had  to  love  him,  for  it  was  her 
nature  to; 

And  she'll  wed  him  in  the  summer,  if  all  we  hear 
be  true. 

The  blue  grass  will  be  waving  in  that  cool  Ken- 
tucky glade 

Where  the  black-eyed  Susans  cluster  in  the  pleas- 
ant walnut  shade — 


30  H008IER  LYRICS. 

Where  the  doves  make  mournful  music  and  the 

locust  trills  a  song 
To  the  brook  that  through  the  pasture  scampers 

merrily  along; 
And  speechless  pride  and  rapture  ineffable  shall 

fill 
The  beatific  bosom  of  Penn-Yan  Bill! 


HOOSlEli  LYRICS.  31 


ED. 


Ed  was  a  man  that  played  for  keeps,  'nd  when  he 

tuk  the  notion, 
You  cudn't  stop  him  any  more'n  a  dam  'ud  stop 

the  ocean; 
For  when  he  tackled  to  a  thing  'nd  sot  his  mind 

plum  to  it, 
You  bet  yer  boots  he  done  that  thing  though  it 

broke  the  bank  to  do  it ! 
So  all  us  boys  uz  knowed  him  best  allowed  he 

wusn't  jokin' 
When  on  a  Sunday  he  remarked  uz  how  he'd  gin 

up  smokin'. 
Now  this  remark,  that  Ed  let  fall,  fell,  ez  I  say,  on 

Sunday — 
Which  is  the  reason  we  wuz  shocked  to  see  him  sail 

in  Monday 
A-puffin'  at  a  snipe  that  sizzled  like  a  Chinese 

cracker 
An'  smelt  fur  all  the  world  like  rags  instead  uv 

like  terbacker; 
Recoverin'  from  our  first  surprise,  us  fellows  fell 

to  pokin' 
A  heap  uv  fun  at ' '  folks  uz  said  how  they  had  gin 

up  smokin'." 


32  HOOSIER  LYRICS. 

But  Ed — sez  he :    "I  found  my  work  cud  not  be 

done  without  it — 
Jes '  try  the  scheme  yourself,  my  friends,  ef  any  uv 

you  doubt  it! 
It's  hard,  I  know,  upon  one's  health,  but  there's  a 

certain  beauty 

In  makin '  sackerfices  to  the  stern  demand  uv  duty ! 
So,  wholly  in  a  sperrit  uv  denial  'nd  concession 
I  mortify  the  flesh  'nd  fur  the  sake  uv  my  perfes- 

sion!" 


H008IER  LYRICS.  33 


HOW  SALTY  WIN  OUT. 


Used  to  think  that  luck  wuz  luck  and  nuthin'  else 

but  luck — 
It  made  no  difference  how  or  when  or  where  or 

why  it  struck ; 
But  sev'ral  years  ago  I  changt  my  mind  and  now 

proclaim 
That  luck's  a  kind  uv  science — same  as  any  other 

game; 
It  happened  out  in  Denver  in  the  spring  uv  '80, 

when 
Salty  teched  a  humpback  an'  win  out  ten. 


Salty  wuz  a  printer  in  the  good  ol'  Tribune  days, 

An',  natural-like,  he  fell  in  love  with  the  good  ol' 
Tribune  ways ; 

So,  every  Sunday  evenin'  he  would  sit  into  the 
game 

Which  in  this  crowd  uv  thoroughbreds  I  think  I 
need  not  name; 

An'  there  he'd  sit  until  he  rose,  an',  when  he  rose 
he  wore 

Invariably  less  wealth  about  his  person  than  be- 
fore. 


34  HOOSIER  LYRICS. 

But  once  there  come  a  powerful  change;  one  sol- 

lum  Sunday  night 
Occurred  the  tidle  wave  what  put  ol'  Salty  out  o' 

sight ! 
He  win  on  deuce  an'  ace  an'  jack — he  win  on  king 

an'  queen — 
Cliff  Bill  allowed  the  like  uv  how  he  win  wuz 

never  seen! 
An'  how  he  done  it  wuz  revealed  to  all  us  fellers 

when 
He  said  he  teched  a  humpback  to  win  out  ten. 

There  must  be  somethin'  in  it  for  he  never  win 

afore, 
An'  when  he  tole  the  crowd  about  the  humpback, 

how  they  swore! 

For  every  sport  allows  it  is  a  losin'  game  to  buck 
Agin  the  science  of  a  man  who's  teched  a  hump  f 'r 

luck; 
An'  there  is  no  deny  in'  luck  was  nowhere  in  it 

when 
Salty  teched  a  humpback  an'  win  out  ten. 

I've  had  queer  dreams  an1  seen  queer  things,  an* 

allus  tried  to  do 
The  thing  that  luck  apparrently  intended  f 'r  me 

to; 
Cats,    funerils,   cripples,   beggars   have   I   treated 

with  regard, 
An'  charity  subscriptions  have  hit  me  powerful 

hard; 


HOOSIER  LYRICS.  35 

But  what's  the  use  uv  talkin'?  I  say,  an'  say  again; 
You've  got  to  tech  a  humpback  to  win  out  ten! 


So,  though  I  used  to  think  that  luck  wuz  lucky,  I  '11 
allow 

That  luck,  for  luck,  agin  a  hump  ain't  nowhere  in 
it  now! 

An'  though  I  can't  explain  the  whys  an'  where- 
fores, I  maintain 

There  must  be  somethin'  in  it  when  the  tip's  so 
straight  an'  plain; 

For  I  wuz  there  an'  seen  it,  an'  got  full  with  Salty 
when 

Salty  teched  a  humpback  and  win  out  ten ! 


36  HOOSIER  LYRICS. 


HIS  QUEEN. 


Our  gifted  and  genial  friend,  Mr.  William  J. 
Florence,  the  comedian,  takes  to  verses  as  natural- 
ly as  a  canvas-back  duck  takes  to  celery  sauce.  As 
a  balladist  he  has  few  equals  and  no  superiors,  and 
when  it  comes  to  weaving  compliments  to  the  gen- 
tler sex  he  is  without  a  peer.  We  find  in  the  New 
York  Mirror  the  latest  verses  from  Mr.  Florence's 
pen;  they  are  entitled  "Pasadene,2'  and  the  first 
stanza  flows  in  this  wise : 


I've  journeyed  East,  I've  journeyed  West, 
And  fair  Italia 's  fields  I've  seen; 

But  I  declare 

None  can  compare 
With  thee,  my  rose-crowned  Pasadene. 


Following  this  introduction  come  five  stanzas 
heaping  even  more  glowing  compliments  upon  this 
Miss  Pasadene — whoever  she  may  be — we  know 
her  not.  They  are  handsome  compliments,  beauti- 
fully phrased,  yet  they  give  us  the  heartache,  for 
we  know  Mrs.  Florence,  and  it  grieves  us  to  see  her 
husband  dribbling  away  his  superb  intellect  in 


HOOSIEB  LYRICS.  37 

penning  verses  to  other  women.  Yet  we  think  we 
understand  it  all ;  these  poets  have  a  pretty  way  of 
hymning  the  virtues  of  their  wives  under  divers 
aliases.  So,  catching  the  afflatus  of  the  genial 
actor-poet's  muse,  we  would  answer: 


Come,  now,  who  is  this  Pasadene 
That  such  a  whirl  of  praises  warrant? 

And  is  a  rose 

Her  only  clo'es? 
Oh,  fie  upon  you,  Billy  Florence! 


Ah,  no;  that's  your  poetic  way 

Of  turning  loose  your  rhythmic  torrents — 

This  Pasadene 

Is  not  your  queen — 
We  know  you  know  we  know  it,  Florence ! 


So  sing  your  songs  of  women  folks — 
We'll  read  without  the  least  abhorrence, 

Because  we  know 

Through  weal  and  woe 
Your  queen  is  Mrs.  Billy  Florence ! 


HOOSIER  LYRICS. 


ALASKAN  BALLADRY.— III. 


(Skans  in  Love.) 

I  am  like  the  wretched  seal 
Wounded  by  a  barbed  device — 

Helpless  fellow !  how  I  bellow, 
Floundering  on  the  jagged  ice! 


Sitka's  beauty  is  the  steel 

That  hath  wrought  this  piteous  woe: 
Yet  would  I  rather  die 

Than  recover  from  the  blow! 


Still  I'd  rather  live  than  die, 
Grievous  though  my  torment  be; 

Smite  away,  but,  I  pray,- 
Smite  no  victim  else  than  me ! 


HOOSIEB  LYRICS. 


THE  BIGGEST  FISH. 


When,  in  the  halcyon  days  of  old,  I  was  a  little 

tyke, 
I  used  to  fish  in  pickerel  ponds  for  minnows  and 

the  like; 
And,  oh,  the  bitter  sadness  with  which  my  soul  was 

fraught 
When  I  rambled  home  at  nightfall  with  the  puny 

string  I'd  caught! 

And,  oh,  the  indignation  and  the  valor  I'd  display 
When  I  claimed  that  all  the  biggest  fish  I'd  caught 

had  got  away! 


Sometimes  it  was  the  rusty  hooks,  sometimes  the 
fragile  lines,  , 

And  many  times  the  treacherous  reeds  were  act- 
ually to  blame. 

I  kept  right  on  at  losing  all  the  monsters  just  the 
same — • 

I  never  lost  a  little  fish — yes,  I  am  free  to  say 

It  always  was  the  biggest  firh  I  caught  that  got 
away. 

And  so  it  was,  when,  later  on,  I  felt  ambition  pass 

From  callow  minnow  joys  to  nobler  greed  for  pike 
and  bass ; 


40  HOOSIER  LYEICS. 

I  found  it  quite  convenient,  when  the  beauties 
wouldn't  bite 

And  I  returned  all  bootless  from  the  watery  chase 
at  night, 

To  feign  a  cheery  aspect  and  recount  in  accents 
gay 

How  the  biggest  fish  that  I  'had  caught  had  some- 
how got  away. 


And,  really,  fish  look  bigger  than  they  are  before 
they're  caught — 

When  the  pole  is  bent  into  a  bow  and  the  slender 
line  is  taut, 

When  a  fellow  feels  his  heart  rise  up  like  a  dough- 
nut in  his  throat 

And  he  lunges  in  a  frenzy  up  and  down  the  leaky 
boat! 

Oh,  you  who've  been  a-fishing  will  indorse  me 
when  I  say 

That  it  always  is  the  biggest  fish  you  catch  that 
gets  away ! 


'Tis  even  so  in  other  things — yes,  in  our  greedy 

eyes 
The  biggest  boon  is  some  elusive,  never-captured 

prize; 
We  angle  for  the  honors  and  the  sweets  of  human 

life— 


HOOSIER  LYRICS.  41 

Like  fishermen  we  brave  the  seas  that  roll  in  end- 
less strife; 

And  then  at  last,  when  all  is  done  and  we  are  spent 
and  gray, 

We  own  the  biggest  fish  we've  caught  are  those 
that  get  away. 


I  would  not  have  it  otherwise;    'tis  better  there 

should  be 
Much  bigger  fish  than  I  have  caught  a-swimming 

in  the  sea; 
For  now  some  worthier  one  than  I  may  angle  for 

that  game — 
May  by  his  arts  entice,  entrap,  and  comprehend  the 

same; 
Which,  having  done,  perchance  he'll  bless  the  man 

who's  proud  to  say 
That  the  biggest  fish  he  ever  caught  were  those  that 

got  away. 


42  HOOSIER  LYRICS. 


BONNIE    JIM    CAMPBELL:    A    LEGIS- 
LATIVE MEMORY. 

Bonnie  Jim  Campbell  rode  up  the  glen, 

But  it  wasn  't  to  meet  the  butterine  men ; 

It  wasn 't  Phil  Armour  he  wanted  to  see, 

Nor  Haines  nor  Crafts — though  their  friend  was 

he. 

Jim  Campbell  was  guileless  as  man  could  be — 
No  fraud  in  his  heart  had  he ; 
'Twas  all  on  account  of  his  character's  sake 

That  he  sought  that  distant  Wisconsin  lake. 
******* 

Bonnie  Jim  Campbell  came  riding  home, 
And  now  he  sits  in  the  rural  gloam ; 
A  tear  steals  furtively  down  his  nose 
As  salt  as  the  river  that  yonder  flows; 
To  the  setting  sun  and  the  rising  moon 
He  plaintively  warbles  the  good  old  tune: 


"Of  all  the  drinks  that  ever  were  made — 
From  sherbet  to  circus  lemonade — 
Not  one's  so  healthy  and  sweet,  I  vow, 
As  the  rich,  thick  cream  of  the  Elgin  cow! 
Oh,  that  she  were  here  to  enliven  the  scene, 
Right  merry  would  be  our  hearts,  I  ween; 


HOOSIER  LYRICS.  43 

Then,  then  again,  Bob  Wilbanks  and  I 

Would  take  it  by  turns  and  milk  her  dry ! 

We  would  stuff  her  paunch  with  the  best  of  hay 

And  milk  her  a  hundred  times  a  day!" 


Tis  thus  that  Bonnie  Jim  Campbell  sings — 
A  young  he-angel  with  sprouting  wings; 
He  sings  and  he  prays  that  Fate '11  allow 
Him  one  more  whack  at  the  Elgin  cow! 


44  HOOSIER  LYRICS. 


LYMAN,  FREDERICK  AND  JIM. 


Lyman  and  Frederick  and  Jim,  one  day, 

Set  out  in  a  great  big  ship — 
Steamed  to  the  ocean  down  to  the  bay 

Out  of  a  New  York  slip. 
"Where  are  you  going  and  what  is  your  game?" 

The  people  asked  to  those  three. 
"Darned,  if  we  know;  but  all  the  same 
Happy  as  larks  are  we; 
And  happier  still  we're  going  to  be!" 
Said  Lyman 
And  Frederick 
And  Jim. 

The  people  laughed  "Aha,  oho! 

Oho,  aha!"  laughed  they; 
And  while  those  three  went  sailing  so 

Some  pirates  steered  that  way. 
The  pirates  they  were  laughing,  too — 

The  prospect  made  them  glad; 
But  by  the  time  the  job  was  through 
Each  of  them  pirates  bold  and  bad, 
Had  been  done  out  of  all  he  had 
By  Lyman 
And  Frederick 
And  Jim. 


HOOSIER  LYRICS.  45 

Days  and  weeks  and  months  they  sped, 

Painting  that  foreign  clime 
A  beautiful,  bright  vermillion  red — 

And  having  a  —  of  a  time ! 
'Twas  all  so  gaudy  a  lark,  it  seemed  , 

As  if  it  could  not  be, 

And  some  folks  thought  it  a  dream  they  dreamed 
Of  sailing  that  foreign  sea, 
But  I'll  identify  you  these  three — 
Lyman 

And  Frederick 
And  Jim. 

Lyman  and  Frederick  are  bankers  and  sich 

And  Jim  is  an  editor  kind ; 
The  first  two  named  are  awfully  rich 

And  Jim  ain't  far  behind! 
So  keep  your  eyes  open  and  mind  your  tricks, 

Or  you  are  like  to  be 
In  quite  as  much  of  a  Tartar  fix 
As  the  pirates  that  sailed  the  sea 
And  monkeyed  with  the  pardners  three, 

Lyman  ) 

And  Frederick 
And  Jim. 


46  HOOSIEE  LYRICS. 


A  WAIL. 


My  name  is  Col.  Johncey  New, 

And  by  a  hoosier's  grace 
I  have  congenial  work  to  do 

At  12  St.  Helen's  place. 
I  was  as  happy  as  a  clam 

A-floating  with  the  tide, 
Till  one  day  came  a  cablegram 

To  me  from  t'other  side. 


It  was  a  Macedonian  cry 

From  Benjy  o'er  the  sea; 
"Come  hither,  Johncey,  instantly, 

And  whoop  things  up  for  me ! ' ' 
I  could  not  turn  a  callous  ear 

Unto  that  piteous  cry ; 
I  packed  my  grip,  and  for  the  pier 

Directly  started  I. 


Alas!   things  are  not  half  so  fair 
As  four  short  years  ago — 

The  clouds  are  gathering  everywhere 
And  boisterous  breezes  blow; 


E008IER  LYRICS,  47 

My  wilted  whiskers  indicate 

The  depth  of  my  disgrace — 
Would  I  were  back,  enthroned  in  state, 

At  12  St.  Helen's  place! 


The  saddest  words,  as  I'll  allow, 

That  drop  from  tongue  or  pen, 
Are  these  sad  words  I  utter  now: 

"They  can't,  shan't,  won't  have  Ben!" 
So,  with  my  whiskers  in  my  hands, 

My  journey  I'll  retrace, 
To  wreak  revenge  on  foreign  lands 

At  12  St.  Helen's  place. 


48  HOOSIER  LYRICS. 

CLENDENIN'S  LAMENT. 


While  bridal  knots  are  being  tied 
And  bridal  meats  are  being  basted, 

I  shiver  in  the  cold  outside 

And  pine  for  joys  I've  never  tasted. 


Oh,  what's  a  nomination  worth, 

When  you  have  labored  months  to  get  it 
If,  all  at  once,  with  heartless  mirth, 

The  cruel  senator's  upset  it? 


Fate  weaves  me  such  a  toilsome  way, 
My  modest  wisdom  may  not  ken  it — 

But,  all  the  same,  a  plague  I  say 
Upon  that  stingy,  hostile  senate! 


HOOS1ER  LYRICS.  49 

ON  THE  WEDDING  OF  G.  C. 

(June  2,  1886.) 

Oh,  hand  me  down  my  spike  tail  coat 

And  reef  my  waistband  in, 
And  tie  this  necktie  round  my  throat 

And  fix  my  bosom  pin; 
I  feel  so  weak  and  flustered  like, 

I  don't  know  what  I  say — 
For  I  am  to  be  wedded  to-day,  Dan'l, 

I'm  to  be  wedded  to-day! 


Put  double  sentries  at  the  doors 

And  pull  the  curtains  down, 
And  tell  the  democratic  bores 

That  I  am  out  of  town ; 
It's  funny  folks  haint  decency 

Enough  to  stay  away, 
When  I'm  to  be  wedded  to-day,  Dan'l, 

I'm  to  be  wedded  to-day ! 


The  bride,  you  say,  is  calm  and  cool 
In  satin  robes  of  white — • 

Well,  I  am  stolid,  as  a  rule, 
But  now  I'm  flustered  quite; 


50  HOOSIER  LYRICS. 

Upon  a  surging  sea  of  bliss 

My  soul  is  borne  away, 
For  I'm  to  be  wedded  to-day,  Dan'l, 

I'm  to  be  wedded  to-day! 


HOOSIER  LYRICS.  51 

TO  G.  C. 

(July  12,  1886.) 

They  say  our  president  has  stuck 

Above  his  good  wife's  door 
The  sign  provocative  of  luck — 

A   horseshoe — nothing  more. 


Be  hushed,  O  party  hates,  the  while 
That  emblem  lingers  there, 

And  thou,  dear  fates,  propitious  smile 
Upon  the  wedded  pair. 


I've  tried  the  horseshoe's  weird  intent 

And  felt  its  potent  joy — 
God  bless  you,  Mr.  President, 

And  may  it  be  a  boy. 


52  E008IER  LYRICS. 


TO  DR.  F.  W.  R. 


If  I  were  rich  enough  to  buy 

A  case  of  wine  (though  I  abhor  it), 
I'd  send  a  quart  of  extra  dry 

And  willingly  get  trusted  for  it. 
But,  lackaday!  You  know  that  I'm 

As  poor  as  Job's  historic  turkey — 
In  lieu  of  Mumm,  accept  this  rhyme, 

An  honest  gift  though  somewhat  jerky. 


This  is  your  silver  wedding  day — 

You  didn  't  mean  to  let  me  know  it ! 
And  yet  your  smiles  and  raiments  gay 

Beyond  all  peradventure  show  it! 
By  all  you  say  and  do  it's  dear 

A  birdling  in  your  heart  is  singing, 
And  everywhere  you  go  you  hear 

The  old-time  bridal  bells  a-ringing. 


Ah,  well,  God  grant  that  these  dear  chimes 
May  mind  you  of  the  sweetness  only 

Of  those  far  distant,  callow  times 
When  you  were  Benedick  and  lonely — 


HOOSIER  LYRICS.  53 

And  when  an  angel  blessed  your  lot — 
For  angel  is  your  helpmeet,  truly — 

And  when,  to  share  the  joy  she  brought, 
Came  other  little  angels,  duly. 


So  here's  a  health  to  you  and  wife — 

Long  may  you  mock  the  Reaper's  warning, 
And  may  the  evening  of  your  life 

In  rising  sons  renew  the  morning; 
May  happiness  and  peace  and  love 

Come  with  each  morrow  to  caress  ye, 
And  when  you're  done  with  earth,  above — 

God  bless  ye,  dear  old  friend — God  bless  ye ! 


54  HOOSIER  LYRICS. 


HORACE'S  ODE  TO  "LYDIA"  ROCHE. 


No  longer  the  boys, 

With  their  music  and  noise, 
Demand  your  election  as  mayor; 

Such  a  milk-wagon  hack 

Has  no  place  on  the  track 
When  his  rival's  a  thoroughbred  stayer. 


With  your  coarse,  shallow  wit 

Every  rational  cit 
At  last  is  completely  disgusted; 

The  tool  of  the  rings, 

Trusts,  barons,   and  things, 
What  wonder,  I  wonder,  you're  busted! 


As  soon  as  that  Yerkes 
Finds  out  you  can't  work  his 

Intrigues  for  the  popular  nickel, 
With  a  tear  to  deceive  you 
He'll  drop  you  and  leave  you 

In  your  normal  condition — a  pickle. 


HOOS1ER  LYRICS.  55 

Go,  dodderer,  go 

Where  the  whisker  winds  blow 
And  spasms  of  penitence  trouble; 

Or  flounder  and  whoop 

In  an  ocean  of  soup 
Where  the  pills  of  adversity  bubble. 


56  HOOSIER  LYRICS. 


A  PARAPHRASE,  CIRCA  1715. 


Since  Chloe  is  so  monstrous  fair, 
With  such  an  eye  and  such  an  air, 
What  wonder  that  the  world  complains 
When  she  each  am'rous  suit  disdains? 


Close  to  her  mother's  side  she  clings 
And  mocks  the  death  her  folly  brings 
To  gentle  swains  that  feel  the  smarts 
Her  eyes  inflict  upon  their  hearts. 


Whilst  thus  the  years  of  youth  go  by, 
Shall  Colin  languish,  Strephon  die? 
Nay,  cruel  nymph !  come,  choose  a  mate, 
And  choose  him  ere  it  be  too  late! 


EOOSIER  LYRICS.  57 


A  PARAPHRASE,   OSTENSIBLY   BY 
DR.  I.  W. 


Why,  Mistress  Chloe,  do  you  bother 
With  prattlings  and  with  vain  ado 

Your  worthy  and  industrious  mother, 
Eschewing  them  that  come  to  woo? 


Oh,  that  the  awful  truth  might  quicken 
This  stern  conviction  to  your  breast: 

You  are  no  longer  now  a  chicken 
Too  young  to  quit  the  parent  nest. 


So  put  aside  your  froward  carriage 

And  fix  your  thoughts,  whilst  yet  there's  time, 
Upon  the  righteousness  of  marriage 

With  some  such  godly  man  as  I'm. 


58  HOOSIEE  LYRICS. 


HORACE  I,  27. 


In  maudlin  spite  let  Thracians  fight 
Above  their  bowls  of  liquor, 

But  such  as  we,  when  on  a  spree, 
Should  never  bawl  and  bicker! 

These  angry  words  and  clashing  swords 
Are  quite  de  trop,  I'm  thinking; 

Brace  up,  my  boys,  and  hush  your  noise, 
And  drown  your  wrath  in  drinking. 

Aha,  'tis  fine — this  mellow  wine 

With  which  our  host  would  dope  us! 

Now  let  us  hear  what  pretty  dear 
Entangles  him  of  Opus. 

I  see  you  blush — nay,  comrades,  hush! 

Come,  friend,  though  they  despise  you, 
Tell  me  the  name  of  that  fair  dame — 

Perchance  I  may  advise  you. 

0  wretched  youth!  and  is  it  truth 

You  love  that  fickle  lady? 
I,  doting  dunce,  courted  her  once, 

And  she  is  reckoned  shady! 


HOOSIER  LYRICS.  59 


HEINE'S    "WIDOW    OR    DAUGHTER.' 


Shall  I  woo  the  one  or  the  other? 

Both  attract  me — more's  the  pity! 
Pretty  is  the  widowed  mother, 

And  the  daughter,  too,  is  pretty. 


When  I  see  that  maiden  shrinking, 
By  the  gods,  I  swear  I'll  get  'er! 

But,  anon,  I  fall  to  thinking 

That  the  mother '11  suit  me  better! 


So,  like  any  idiot  ass — 

Hungry  for  the  fragrant  fodder, 
Placed  between  two  bales  of  grass, 

Lo,  I  doubt,  delay,  and  dodder! 


60  HOOSIER  LYRICS. 


HORACE  II,  20. 


Maecenas,  I  propose  to  fly 

To  realms  beyond  these  human  portals; 
No  common  things  shall  be  my  wings, 

But  such  as  sprout  upon  immortals. 


Of  lowly  birth,  once  shed  of  earth, 
Your  Horace,  precious  (so  you've  told  him), 

Shall  soar  away — no  tomb  of  clay 
Nor  Stygian  prison  house  shall  hold  him. 


Upon  my  skin  feathers  begin 

To  warn  the  songster  of  his  fleeting; 

But  never  mind — I  leave  behind 

Songs  all  the  world  shall  keep  repeating. 


Lo,  Boston  girls  with  corkscrew  curls, 
And  husky  westerns,  wild  and  woolly, 

And  southern  climes  shall  vaunt  my  rhymes — 
And  all  profess  to  know  me  fully. 


HOOSIER  LYRICS.  61 

Methinks  the  west  shall  know  me  best 
And  therefore  hold  my  memory   dearer, 

For  by  that  lake  a  bard  shall  make 
My  subtle,  hidden  meanings  clearer. 


So  cherished,  I  shall  never  die — 

Pray,   therefore,   spare  your  dolesome  praises, 
Your  elegies  and  plaintive  cries, 

For  I  shall  fertilize  no  daisies ! 


62  HOOS1ER  LYRICS. 


HORACE'S  SPRING  POEM. 

(Odes  I,  4.) 

The  western  breeze  is  springing  up,  the  ships  are 

in  the  bay, 
And  Spring  has  brought  a  happy  change  as  Winter 

melts  away; 
No  more  in  stall  or  fire  the  herd  or  plowman  finds 

delight, 
No  longer  with  the  biting  frosts  the  open  fields  are 

white. 

Our  Lady  of  Lythera  now  prepares  to  lead  the 

dance, 
While    from    above  the    ruddy  moon    bestows  a 

friendly  glance; 
The  nymphs  and  comely  Graces  join  with  Venus 

and  the  choir, 
And  Vulcan's    glowing    fancy    lightly  turns    to 

thoughts  of  fire. 

Now  is  the  time  with  myrtle  green  to  crown  the 
shining  pate, 

And  with  the  early  blossoms  of  the  spring  to  dec- 
orate ; 

To  sacrifice  to  Faunus — on  whose  favor  we  rely — 

A  sprightly  lamb,  mayhap  a  kid,  as  he  may  specify. 


HOOSIER  LYRICS.  63 

Impartially  the  feet  of  Death  at  huts  and  castles 
strike — 

The  influenza  carries  off  the  rich  and  poor  alike; 

0  Sestius!  though  blest  you  are  beyond  the  com- 
mon run, 

Life  is  too  short  to  cherish  e'en  a  distant  hope  be- 
gun. 

The  Shades  and  Pluto's  mansion  follow  hard  upon 

la  grippe— 
Once  there  you  cannot  throw  at  dice  or  taste  the 

wine  you  sip, 

Nor  look  on  Lycidas,  whose  beauty  you  commend. 
To  whom  the  girls  will  presently  thei»*  courtesies 

extend. 


64  HOOSIER  LYRICS. 


HORACE  TO  LIGURINE. 

(Odes  IV,   10.) 

0  cruel  fair, 

Whose   flowing  hair 
The  envy  and  the  pride  of  all  is, 

As  onward  roll 

The  years,  that  poll 
Will  get  as  bald  as  a  billiard  ball  is; 
Then  shall  your  skin,  now  pink  and  dimply, 
Be  tanned  to  parchment,  sear  and  pimply! 


When  you  behold 

Yourself  grown  old 
These  words  shall  speak  your  spirits  moody: 

"Unhappy  one! 

What  heaps  of  fun 
I've  missed  by  being  goody-goody! 
Oh!  that  I  might  have  felt  the  hunger 
Of  loveless  age  when  I  was  younger!" 


H008IER  LYRICS.  65 


HORACE  ON  HIS  MUSCLE. 
(Epode  VI.) 

You  (blatant  coward  that  you  are!) 

Upon  the  helpless  vent  your  spite; 
Suppose  you  ply  your  trade  on  me — 
Come,  monkey  with  this  bard  and  see 
How  I'll  repay  your  bark  with  bite! 

Ay,  snarl  just  once  at  me,  you  brute! 

And  I  shall  hound  you  far  and  wide, 
As  fiercely  as  through  drifted  snow 
The  shepherd  dog  pursues  what  foe 

Skulks  on  the  Spartan  mountain  side! 

The  chip  is  on  my  shoulder,  see? 

But  touch  it  and  I'll  raise  your  fur; 
I'm  full  of  business;  so  beware, 
For,  though  I'm  loaded  up  for  bear, 

I'm  quite  as  likely  to  kill  a  cur! 


66  HOOSIER  LYRICS. 


HORACE  TO  MAECENAS. 
(Odes  III,  29.) 

Dear  noble  friend!  a  virgin  cask 

Of  wine  solicits  attention — 
And  roses  fair,  to  deck  your  hair, 

And  things  too  numerous  to  mention, 
So  tear  yourself  awhile  away 

From  urban  turmoil,  pride  and  splendor 
And  deign  to  share  what  humble  fare 

And  sumptuous  fellowship  I  tender; 
The  sweet  content  retirement  brings 
Smoothes  out  the  ruffled  front  of  kings. 


The  evil  planets  have  combined 

To  make  the  weather  hot  and  hotter — 
By  parboiled  streams  the  shepherd  dreams 

Vainly  of  ice-cream  soda-water; 
And  meanwhile  you,  defying  heat, 

With  patriotic  ardor  ponder 
On  what  old  Rome  essays  at  home 

And  what  her  heathen  do  out  yonder. 
Maecenas,  no  such  vain  alarm 
Disturbs  the  quiet  of  this  farm! 


H008IER  LYRICS.  67 

God  in  his  providence  observes 

The  goal  beyond  this  vale  of  sorrow, 
And  smiles  at  men  in  pity  'when 

They  seek    to  penetrate  the  morrow. 
With  faith  that  all  is  for  the  best, 

Let's  bear  what  burdens  are  presented, 
That  we  shall  say,  let  come  what  may, 

"We  die,  as  we  have  lived,  contented! 
Ours  is  to-day;  God's  is  the  rest — 
He  doth  ordain  who  knoweth  best!" 


Dame  Fortune  plays  me  many  a  prank — 

When  she  is  kind,  oh!  how  I  go  it! 
But  if,  again,   she's  harsh,   why,  then 

I  am  a  very  proper  poet! 
When  favoring  gales  bring  in  my  ships, 

I  hie  to  Rome  and  live  in  clover — 
Elsewise,  I  steer  my  skiff  out  here, 

And  anchor  till  the  storm  blows  over. 
Compulsory  virtue  is  the  charm 
Of  life  upon  the  Sabine  farm! 


68  HOOSIER  LYRICS. 


HORACE  IN  LOVE  AGAIN. 

(Epode  XL) 

Dear  Pettius,  once  I  reeled  off  rhyme 
Satiric,  sad  and  tender, 
But  now  my  quill 
Has   lost  its   skill 
And  I  am  dying  in  my  prime 
Through  love  of  female  gender! 
Nay,   do  not  laugh 
Nor  deign  to  chaff 
Your  friend  with  taunts  of  Lyde 
And  other  dames 
Who've  been  my  flames — 
This  time  it 's  bona-fide ! 


I  maunder  sadly  to  and  fro — 
I  who  was  once  so  jolly! 

My  old  time  chums 

Gyrate  their  thumbs 
And  taunt  me,  as  I  sighing  go, 
With  what  they  term  my  folly. 

I  told  you  once, 

Lake  a  garrulous  dunce, 
Of  my  all  consuming  passion, 

And  I  rolled  my  eyes 


HOOSIER  LYRICS.  69 

In  tragedy  wise 
And  raved  in  lovesick  fashion. 


And  when  I'd  aired  my  woes  profound 
You  volunteered   this  warning: 
"  Horace,  go  light 
On  the  bowl  to-night — 
Ten  hours  of  sleep  will  bring  you  round 
All  right  to-morrow  morning!" 
Now  ten  hours  sleep 
May  do  a  heap 
For  callow  hearts  a-patter, 
But  I  tell  you,  sir, 
This  affair  du  coeur 
Of  mine  is  a  serious  matter! 


70  HOOSIER  LYRICS. 


'GOOD-BY— GOD  BLESS  YOU!" 


I  like  the  Anglo-Saxon  speech 

With  its  direct  revealings — 
It  takes  a  hold  and  seems  to  reach 

Way  down  into  your  feelings; 
That  some  folk  deem  it  rude,  I  know, 

And  therefore  they  abuse  it; 
But  I  have  never  found  it  so — 

Before  all  else  I  choose  it. 
I  don't  object  that  men  should  air 

The  Gallic  they  have  paid  for — 
With  "au  revoir,"  "adieu,  ma  chere" — 

For  that's  what  French  was  made  for — 
But  when  a  crony  takes  your  hand 

At  parting  to  address  you, 
He  drops  all  foreign  lingo  and 

He  says:  "Good-by — God  bless  you!" 

This  seems  to  me  a  sacred  phrase 

With  reverence  impassioned — 
A  thing  come  down  from  righteous  days, 

Quaintly  but  nobly  fashioned; 
It  well  becomes  an  honest  face — 

A  voice  that's  round  and  cheerful; 
It  stays  the  sturdy  in  his  place 

And  soothes  the  weak  and  fearful. 


HOOSIER  LYRICS.  71 

Into  the  porches  of  the  ears 

It  steals  with  subtle  unction 
And  in  your  heart  of  hearts  appears 

To  work  its  gracious  function; 
And  all  day  long  with  pleasing  song 

It  lingers  to  caress  you — 
I'm  sure  no  human  heart  goes  wrong 

That's  told  "Good-by— God  bless  you!" 


I  love  the  words — perhaps  because, 

When  I  was  leaving  mother, 
Standing  at  last  in  solemn  pause 

We  looked  at  one  another, 
And — I  saw  in  mother's  eyes 

The  love  she  could  not  tell  me — 
A  love  eternal  as  the  skies, 

Whatever  fate  befell  me; 
She  put  her  arms  about  my  neck 

And  soothed  the  pain  of  leaving, 
And,  though  her  heart  was  like  to  break, 

She  spoke  no  word  of  grieving; 
She  let  no  tear  bedim  her  eye, 

For  fear  that  might  distress  me, 
But,  kissing  me,  she  said  good-by 

And  asked  her  God  to  bless  me. 


72  HOOSIER  LYKICS. 


HORACE. 

(Epode  XIV.) 

You  ask  me,  friend, 

Why  I  don't  send 
The  long  since  due-and-paid-for  numbers — 

Why,  songless,  I 

As  drunken  lie 
Abandoned  to  Lethaan  slumbers. 

Long  time  ago 

(As  well  you  know) 
I  started  in  upon  'chat  carmen; 

My  work  was  vain — 

But  why  complain? 
When  gods  forbid,  how  helpless  are  men! 

Some  ages  back, 

The  sage  Anack 
Courted  a  frisky  Samian  body, 

Singing  her  praise 

In  metered  phrase 
As  flowing  as  his  bowls  of  toddy. 

'Till  I  was  hoarse 

Might  I  discourse 

Upon  the  cruelties  of  Venus — 


HOOSIER  LYRICS.  73 

'Twere  waste  of  time 
As  well  of  rhyme, 
For  you've  been  there  yourself,   Maecenas! 


Perfect  your  bliss, 

If  some  fair  miss 
Love  you  yourself  and  not  your  minse; 

I,  fortune's  sport, 

All  vainly  court 
The  beauteous,  polyandrous  Phryne! 


74  H008IER  LYEICS. 


HORACE  I,  23. 


Chloe,  you  shun  me  like  a  hind 

That,  seeking  vainly  for  her  mother, 

Hears  danger  in  each  breath  of  wind 
And  wildly  darts  this  way  and  t'other. 


Whether  the  breezes  sway  the  wood 

Or  lizards  scuttle  through  the  brambles, 

She  starts,  and  off,  as  though  pursued, 

The  foolish,  frightened  creature  scrambles. 


But,  Chloe,  you're  no  infant  thing 
That  should  esteem  a  man  an  ogre — 

Let  go  your  mother's  apron-string 
And  pin  your  faith  upon  a  toga! 


HOOSIEB  LYRICS.  75 


A  PARAPHRASE. 


How  happens  it,  my  cruel  miss, 

You're  always  giving  me  the  mitten? 

You  seem  to  have  forgotten  this: 
That  you  no  longer  are  a  kitten! 


A  woman  that  has  reached  the  years 
Of  that  which  people  call  discretion 

Should  put  aside  all  childish  fears 
And  see  in  courtship  no  transgression. 


A  mother's  solace  may  be  sweet, 
But  Hymen's  tenderness  is  sweeter, 

And  though  all  virile  love  be  meet, 
You'll  find  the  poet's  love  is  metre. 


76  HOOSIEE  LYRICS. 


A  PARAPHRASE  BY  CHAUCER. 


Syn  that  you,  Chloe,  to  your  moder  sticken, 
Maketh  all  ye  yonge  bacheloures  full  sicken; 
Like  as  a  lyttel  deere  you  been  y-hiding 
Whenas  come  lovers  with  theyre  pityse  chiding, 
Sothly  it  ben  faire  to  give  up  your  moder 
For  to  beare  swete  company  with  some  oder; 
Your  moder  ben  well  enow  so  farre  shee  goeth, 
But  that  ben  not  farre  enow,  God  knoweth; 
Wherefore  it  ben  sayed  that  foolysh  ladyes 
That  marrye  not  shall  leade  an  aype  in  Hayde; 
But  all  that  do  with  gode  men  wed  full  quicklye 
When  that  they  be  on  dead  go  to  ye  seints  full 
sickerly. 


HOOSIER  LYRICS.  77 


HORACE  I,  5. 


What  perfumed,  posie-dizened  sirrah, 

With  smiles  for  diet, 
Clasps  you,  0  fair  but  faithless  Pyrrha, 

On  the  quiet? 
For  whom  do  you  bind  up  your  tresses, 

As  spun-gold  yellow — 
Meshes  that  go  with  your  caresses, 

To  snare  a  fellow? 


How  will  he  rail  at  fate  capricious, 

And  curse  you  duly; 
Yet  now  he  deems  your  wiles  delicious — 

You  perfect  truly! 
Pyrrha,  your  love's  a  treacherous  ocean — 

He'll  soon  fall  in  there! 
Then  shall  I  gloat  on  his  commotion, 

For  /  have  been  there! 


78  HOOSIER  LYRICS. 


HORACE  I,  20. 


Than  you,  O  valued  friend  of  mine! 

A  better  patron  non  est — 
Come,  quaff  my  home-made  Sabine  wine — 

You'll  find  it  poor  but  honest. 


I  put  it  up  that  famous  day 

You  patronized  the  ballet 
And  the  public  cheered  you  such  a  way 

As  shook  your  native  valley. 


Csecuban  and  the  Calean  brand 
May  elsewhere  claim  attention, 

But  I  have  none  of  these  on  hand — 
For  reasons  I'll  not  mention. 


ENVOY. 

So  come!  though  favors  I  bestow 

Can  not  be  called  extensive, 
Who  better  than  my  friend  should  know 

That  they're,  at  least,  expensive! 


HOOSIER  LYRICS.  79 


HORACE  II,  7. 


Pompey,  what  fortune  gives  you  back 

To  the  friends  and  the  gods  who  love  you- 
Once  more  you  stand  in  your  native  land, 

With  your  native  sky  above  you! 
Ah,  side  by  side,  in  years  agone, 
We've  faced  tempestuous  weather, 
And  often  quaffed 
The  genial  draft 
From  an  amphora  together  1 


When  honor  at  Phillippi  fell 

A  pray  to  brutal  passion, 
I  regret  to  say  that  my  feet  ran  away 

In  swift  Iambic  fashion; 
You  were  no  poet-soldier  born, 

You  staid,  nor  did  you  wince  then — 
Mercury  came 
To  my  help,  which  same 
Has  frequently  saved  me  since  then. 


But  now  you're  back,  let's  celebrate 
In  the  good  old  way  and  classic — 


80  EOOSIER  LYRICS. 

Come,  let  us  lard  our  skins  with  nard 

And  bedew  our  souls  with  Massic! 
With  fillets  of  green  parsley  leaves 
Our  foreheads  shall  be  done  up, 
And  with  song  shall  we 
Protract  our  spree 
Until  the  morrow's  sun-up. 


HOOSIER  LYRICS.  81 


HORACE  I,  ii. 


Seek  not,  Lucome,  to  know  how  long  you're  going 

to  live  yet — 
What  boons  the  gods  will  yet  withhold,  or  what 

they're  going  to  give  yet; 
For  Jupiter  will  have  his  way,  despite  how  much 

we  worry — 
Some  will  hang  on  for  many  a  day  and  some  die  in 

a  hurry, 
The  wisest  thing  for  you  to  do  is  to  embark  this 

diem 
Upon  a  merry  escapade  with  some  such  bard  as 

I  am; 
And  while  we  sport,  I'll  reel  you  off  such  odes  as 

shall  surprise  ye — 
To-morrow,  when  the  headache  comes — well,  then 

I'll  satirize  yel 


82  HOOSIER  LYRICS. 


HORACE  I,  13. 


"When,  Lydia,  you   (once  fond  and  true, 
But  now  grown  cold  and  supercilious) 

Praise  Telly's  charms  of  neck  and  arms — 
Well,  by  the  dog!  it  makes  me  bilious! 

Then,  with  despite,  my  cheeks  wax  white, 
My  doddering  brain  gets  weak  and  giddy, 

My  eyes  o'erflow  with  tears  which  show 
That  passion  melts  my  vitals,  Liddy! 

Deny,  false  jade,  your  escapade, 

And,  lo!  your  wounded  shoulders  show  it! 
No  manly  spark  left  such  a  mark — 

(Leastwise  he  surely  was  no  poet!) 

With  savage  buss  did  Telephus 

Abraid  your  lips,  so  plump  and  mellow — 
As  you  would  save  what  Venus  gave, 

I  charge  you  shun  that  awkward  fellow! 

And  now  I  say  thrice  happy  they 
That  call  on  Hymen  to  requite   'em; 

For,  though  love  cools,  the  wedded  fools 
Must  cleave  'till  death  doth  disunite  'em! 


HOOSIER  LYRICS.  83 


HORACE  IV,  i. 


0  Mother  Venus,  quit,  I  pray, 

Your  violent  assailing; 
The  arts,  forsooth,  that  fired  my  youth 

At  last  are  unavailing — 
My  blood  runs  cold — I'm  getting  old 

And  all  my  powers  are  failing! 


Speed  thou  upon  thy  white  swan's  wings 
And  elsewhere  deign  to  mellow 

With  my  soft  arts  the  anguished  hearts 
Of  swain  that  writhe  and  bellow; 

And  right  away,  seek  out,  I  pray, 
Young  Paullus — he's  your  fellow. 


You'll  find  young  Paullus  passing  fate, 
Modest,   refined,   and  toney — 

Go,  now,  incite  the  favored  wight! 
With  Venus  for  a  crony. 

He'll  outshine  all  at  feast  and  ball 
And  conversazione! 


Then  shall  that  godlike  nose  of  thine 
With  perfumes  be  requited, 


84  HOOSIER  LYRICS. 

And  then  shall  prance  in  Salian  dance 
The  girls  and  boys  delighted, 

And,  while  the  lute  blends  with  the  flute, 
Shall  tender  loves  be  blighted. 


But  as  for  me — as  you  can  see — 
I'm  getting  old  and  spiteful; 

I  have  no  mind  to  female  kind 
That   once   I    deemed   delightful — 

No  more  brim  up  the  festive  cup 
That  sent  me  home  at  night  full. 


Why  do  I  falter  in  my  speech, 

0  cruel  Ligurine? 
Why  do  I  chase  from  place  to  place 

In  weather  wet  and  shiny? 
Why  down  my  nose  forever  flows 

The  tear  that's  cold  and  briny? 


HOOSIER  LYRICS.  85 


HORACE  TO  HIS  PATRON. 


Maecenas,  you're  of  noble  line — 
(Of  which  the  proof  convincing 

Is  that  you  buy  me  all  my  wine 
Without  so  much  as  wincing.) 

To  different  men  of  different  minds 
Come  different  kinds  of  pleasure; 

There's  Marshall  Field — what  joy  he  finds 
In  shears  and  cloth-yard  measure! 

With  joy  Prof.  Swing  is  filled 
While  preaching  godly  sermons; 

With  bliss  is  Hobart  Taylor  thrilled 
When  he  is  leading  germans. 

While  Uncle  Joe  Medill  prefers 

To  run  a  daily  paper, 
To  Walter  Gresham  it  occurs 

That  law's  the  proper  caper. 

With  comedy  a  winning  card, 

How  blithe  is  Richard  Hooley; 
Per  contra,  making  soap  and  lard, 

Rejoices  Fairbank  duly. 


86  HOOSIER  LYRICS. 

While  Armour  in  the  sugar  ham 
His  summum  bonum  reaches, 

MaeVeagh's  as  happy  as  a  clam 
In  canning  pears  and  peaches. 


Let  Farwell  glory  in  the  fray 
Which  party  hate  increases — 

His  son-in-law  delights  to  play 
Gavottes  and  such  like  pieces. 


So  each  betakes  him  to  his  task — 
So  each  his  hobby  nurses — 

While  I— well,  all  the  boon  I  ask 
Is  leave  to  write  my  verses. 


Give,   give  that  precious  boon  to  me 

And  I  shall  envy  no  man ; 
If  not  the  noblest  I  shall  be 

At  least  the  happiest  Roman! 


HOOSIER  LYRICS.  87 


THE   "ARS   POETICA"    OF   HORACE— 
XVIII. 

(Lines  323-333-) 


The  Greeks  had  genius — 'twas  a  gift 

The  Muse  vouchsafed  in  glorious  measure; 

The  boon  of  Fame  they  made  their  aim 
And  prized  above  all  worldly  treasure. 


But  we — how  do  we  train  our  youth  ? 

Not  in  the  arts  that  are  immortal, 
But  in  the  greed  for  gains  that  speed 

From  him  who  stands  at  Death's  dark  portal. 


Ah,  when  this  slavish  love  of  gold 

Once  binds  the  soul  in  greasy  fetters, 

How  prostrate  lies — how  droops  and  dies 
The  great,  the  noble  cause  of  letters! 


HOOSIEE  LYRICS. 


HORACE  I,  34. 


I  have  not  worshiped  God,  my  King- 
Folly  has  led  my  heart  astray; 

Backward  I  turn  my  course  to  learn 
The  wisdom  of  a  wiser  way. 


How  marvelous  is  God,  the  King ! 

How  do  His  lightnings  cleave  the  sky- 
His  thundering  car  spreads  fear  afar, 

And  even  hell  is  quaked  thereby! 

Omnipotent  is  God,  our  King! 

There  is  no  thought  He  hath  not  read, 
And  many  a  crown  His  hand  plucks  down 

To  place  it  on  a  worthier  head! 


HOOSIER  LYRICS. 


HORACE  I,  33. 


Not  to  lament  that  rival  flame 

Wherewith  the  heartless  Glycera  scorns  you, 
Nor  waste  your  time  in  maudlin  rhyme, 

How  many  a  modern  instance  warns  you. 


Fair-browed  Lycoris  pines  away 
Because  her  Cyrus  loves  another; 

The  ruthless  churl  informs  the  girl 
He  loves  her  only  as  a  brother. 


For  he,  in  turn,  courts  Pholoe — 

A  maid  unscotched  of  love's  fierce  virus — 
Why,  goats  will  mate  with  wolves  they  hate 

Ere  Pholoe  will  mate  with  Cyrus! 


Ah,  weak  and  hapless  human  hearts — 
By  cruel  Mother  Venus  fated 

To  spend  this  life  in  hopeless  strife, 
Because  incongruously  mated! 


90  HOOSIER  LYRICS. 

Such  torture,  Albius,  is  my  lot; 

For,  though  a  better  mistress  wooed  me, 
My  Myrtale  has  captured  me 

And  with  her  cruelties  subdued  me! 


HOOSIEB  LYRICS.  91 


THE  "ARS  POETICA"  OF  HORACE— I. 

(Lines  1-23.) 

Should  painters  attach  to  a  fair  human  head 
The  thick,  turgid  neck  of  a  stallion, 

Or  depict  a  spruce  lass  with  the  tail  of  a  bass — 
I  am  sure  you  would  guy  the  rapscallion! 


Believe  me,  dear  Pisos,  that  such  a  freak 
Is  the  crude  and  preposterous  poem 

Which  merely  abounds  in  a  torrent  of  sounds 
With  no  depth  of  reason  below   'em. 


"Pis  all  very  well  to  give  license  to  art — 

The  wisdom  of  license  defend  I; 
But  the  line  should  be  drawn  at  the  fripperish 
sprawn 

Of  a  mere  cacoethes  scribendi. 


It  is  too  much  the  fashion  to  strain  at  effects — 
Yes,  that's  what's  the  matter  with  Hannah! 

Our  popular  taste  by  the  tyros  debased 
Paints  each  barnyard  a  grove  of  Diana! 


92  HOOSIER  LYRICS. 

Should  a  patron  require  you  to  paint  a  marine, 
Would  you  work  in  some  trees  with  their  barks 
on? 

When  his  strict  orders  are  for  a  Japanese  jar, 
Would  you  give  him  a  pitcher  like  Clarkson? 


Now  this  is  my  moral:  Compose  what  you  may, 
And  fame  will  be  ever  far  distant, 

Unless  you  combine  with  a  simple  design 
A  treatment  in  toto  consistent. 


HOOS1EE  LYEICS.  93 


THE  GREAT  JOURNALIST  IN  SPAIN. 


Good  Editor  Dana — God  bless  him,  we  say! 

Will  soon  be  afloat  on  the  main, 
Will  be  steaming  away 
Through  the  mist  and  the  spray 

To  the  sensuous  climate  of  Spain. 

Strange  sights  shall  he  see  in  that  beautiful  land 
Which  is  famed  for  its  soap  and  Moor, 
For,  as  we  understand, 
The  scenery  is  grand, 
Though  the  system  of  railway  is  poor. 

For  moonlight  of  silver  and  sunlight  of  gold 
Glint  the  orchards  of  lemons  and  mangoes, 
And  the  ladies,  we're  told, 
Are  a  joy  to  behold 
As  they  twine  in  their  lissome  fandangoes. 

What  though  our  friend  Dana  shall  twang  a  guitar 
And  murmur  a  passionate  strain — 

Oh,  fairer  by  far 

Than  these  ravishments  are 
The  castles  abounding  in  Spain! 


94  HOOSIER  LYRICS. 

These  castles  are  built  as  the  builder  may  list — 
They  are  sometimes  of  marble  or  stone, 
But  they  mostly  consist 
Of  east  wind  and  mist 
With  an  ivy  of  froth  overgrown. 


A  beautiful  castle  our  Dana  shall  raise 
On  a  futile  foundation  of  hope, 
And  its  glories  shall  blaze 
In  the  somnolent  haze 
Of  the  mythical  lake  del  y  Soap. 


The  fragrance  of  sunflowers  shall  swoon  on  the  air, 
And  the  visions  of  dreamland   obtain, 
And  the  song  of  "World's  Fair" 
Shall  be  heard  everywhere 
Through  that  beautiful  castle  in  Spain. 


HOOSIER  LYRICS.  95 


REID,  THE  CANDIDATE. 


I  saw  a  brave  compositor 

Go  hustling  o'er  the  mead, 
Who  bore  a  banner  with  these  words: 

"Hurrah  for  Whitelaw  Keid!" 

" Where   go  you,   brother  slug,"   I   asked, 

"With  such  unusual  speed?" 
He  quoth:  "I  go  to  dump  my  vote 

For  gallant  Whitelaw  Reid!" 

"But  what  has  Whitelaw  done,"  I  asked, 
"That  now  he  should  succeed?" 

Said  he:  "The  stanchest,  truest  friend 
We  have  is  Whitelaw  Reid! 

"There  are  no  terms  we  can  suggest 

That  he  will  not  concede; 
He  is  converted  to  our  faith, 

Is  gallant  Whitelaw  Reid! 

"The  union  it  must  be  preserved — 

That  is  this  convert's  creed, 
And  that  is  why  we're  whooping  up 

The  cause  of  Whitelaw  Reid!" 


96  H008IER  LYRICS. 

"If  what  you  say  of  him  be  sooth, 

You  have  a  friend  indeed, 
So  go  on  your  winding  way,"  quoth  I, 

"And  whoop   for  Whitelaw  Reid!" 


So  on  unto  the  polls  I  saw 
That  printer  straight  proceed 

While  other  printers  swarmed  in  swarms 
To  vote  for  Whitelaw  Eeid. 


HOOSIER  LYRICS.  97 


A  VALENTINE. 


Four  little  sisters  standing  in  a  row — 
Which  of  them  I  love  best  I  really  do  not  know. 
Sometimes  it  is  the  sister  dressed  out  so  fine  in  blue, 
And  sometimes  she  who  flaunts  the  beauteous  robe 

of  emerald  hue; 
Sometimes  for  her  who  wears  the  brown  my  tender 

heart  has  bled, 
And  then  again  I  am  consumed  of  love  for  her  in 

red. 
So  now  I  think  I'll  send  this  valentine  unto  the 

four — 
I  love  them  all  so  very  much — how  could  a  man  do 

more? 


HOOSIER  LYRICS. 


KISSING-TIME. 


'Tis  when  the  lark  goes  soaring, 

And  the  bee  is  at  the  bud, 
When  lightly  dancing  zephyrs 

Sing  over  field  and  flood; 
When  all  sweet  things  in  Nature 

Seem  joyfully  a-chime — 
'Tis  then  I  wake  my  darling, 

For  it  is  kissing-time ! 


Go,  pretty  lark,  a-soaring, 

And  suck  your  sweets,  O  bee; 
Sing,  0  ye  winds  of  summer, 

Your  songs  to  mine  and  me. 
For  with  your  song  and  rapture 

Cometh  the  moment  when 
It  is  half-past  kissing-time 

And  time  to  kiss  again! 


So — so  the  days  go  fleeting 
Like  golden  fancies  free, 

And  every  day  that  cometh 
Is  full  of  sweets  for  me; 


HOOSIER  LYRICS.  99 

And  sweetest  are  those  moments 

My  darling  comes  to  climb 
Into  my  lap  to  mind  me 

That  it  is  kissing-time. 

Sometimes,  may  be,  he  wanders 

A  heedless,  aimless  way — 
Sometimes,  may  be,  he  loiters 

In  pretty,  prattling  play; 
But  presently  bethinks  him 

And  hastens  to  me  then, 
For  it's  half-past  kissing  time 

And  time  to  kiss  again! 


100  HOOSIER  LYRICS. 


THE  FIFTH  OF  JULY. 


The  sun  climbs  up,  but  still  the  tyrant  Sleep 
Holds  fast  our  baby  boy  in  his  embrace ; 
The  slumb'rer  sighs,  anon  athwart  his  face 

Faint,  half-suggested  frowns  like  shadows  creep, 

One  little  hand  lies  listless  on  his  breast, 
One  little  thumb  sticks  up  with  mute  appeal, 
While  motley  burns  and  powder  marks  reveal 

The  fruits  of  boyhood's  patriotic  zest. 


Our  baby's  faithful  poodle  crouches  near — 
He,  too,  is  weary  of  the  din  and  play 
That  come  with  glorious  Independence  Day, 

But  which,  thank  God!  come  only  once  a  year! 

And  Fido,  too,  has  suffered  in  this  cause, 
"Which  once  a  year  right  noisily  obtains, 
For  Fido's  tail — or  what  thereof  remains — 

Is  not  so  fair  a  sight  as  once  it  was. 


HOOSIER  LYRICS.  101 


PICNIC-TIME. 


It's  June  agin,  an'  in  my  soul  I  feel  the  nllin'  joy 
That 's  sure  to  come  this  time  o '  year  to  every  little 

boy; 
For,  every  June,  the  Sunday  schools  at  picnics  may 

be  seen, 
Where   "fields  beyont  the   swellin'   floods    stand 

dressed  in  livin'   green." 
Where  little  girls  are  skeered  to  death  with  spiders 

bugs  an'  ants, 
An'  little  boys  get  grass-stains  on    their    go-to- 

meetin'  pants. 
It's  June  agin,  an'  with  it  all  what  happiness  is 

mine — 
There's  goin'  to  be  a  picnic  an'  I'm  goin'  to  jine! 

One  year  I  jined  the  Baptists,  an'  goodness!  how  it 

rained ! 
(But  grampa  says  that  that's  the  way  "Baptize" 

is  explained.) 
And  once  I  jined  the  'piscopils  an'  had  a  heap  o' 

fun — 
But  the  boss  of  all  the  picnics  was  the  Presbyte- 

rium! 
They  had  so  many  puddin's,  sallids,  sandwidges 

an'  pies, 


102  HOOS1ER  LYRICS. 

That  a  feller  wisht  his  stummick  was  as  hungry 

as  his  eyes! 
Oh,  yes,  the  eatin'  Presbyteriums  give  yer  is  so 

fine 
That  when  they  have  a  picnic,  you  bet  I'm  goin' 

to  jine! 


But  at  this  time  the  Methodists  have  special  claims 

on  me, 
For  they're  goin'  to  give  a  picnic  on  the  21st, 

D.  V.; 

"Why  should  a  liberal  Universalist  like  me  object 
To  share  the  joys  of  fellowship  with  every  friendly 

sect? 
However  het'rodox  their  articles  of  faith  elsewise 

may  be, 
Their  doctrine  of  fried  chick 'n  is  a  savin'  grace 

to  me! 

So  on  the  21st  of  June,  the  weather  bein'  fine, 
They're  goin'  to  give  a  picnic,  and  I'm  goin'  to 

jine! 


H008IER  LYRICS.  103 


THE  ROMANCE  OF  A  WATCH, 


One  day  his  father  said  to  John: 

"Come  here  and  see  what  I  hev  bought — 

A  Waterbury  watch,  my  son — 

It  is  the  boon  you  long  hev  sought!" 

The  boy  could  scarcely  believe  his  eyes — 
The  watch  was  shiny,  smooth  an'  slick — 

He  snatched  the  nickel-plated  prize 
An'  wound  away  to  hear  it  tick. 

He  wound  an'  wound,  an'  wound  an'  wound, 
An'  kept  a  windin'  fit  to  kill— 

The  weeks  an'  months  an'  years  rolled  round, 
But  John  he  kep'  a  windin',  still! 

As  autumns  came  an'  winters  went 
An'  summers  follered  arter  spring, 

John  didn't  mind — he  was  intent 

On  windin'  up  that  darned  ol'  thing. 

He  got  to  be  a  poor  ol'  man — 
He's  bald  an'  deaf  an'  blind  an'  lame, 

But,  like  he  did  when  he  began, 
He  keeps  on  windin',  jest  the  same! 


104  EOOSIER  LYRICS. 


OUR  BABY. 


'Tis  very  strange,  but  quite  as  true, 

That  when  our  Baby  smiles 
Our  club  gets  walloped  black  and  blue 

In  all  the  latest  styles; 
But  when  our  Baby's  hopping  mad 

It's  quite  the  other  way — 
Chicago  beats  the  Yankees  bad 

"When  Baby  doesn't  play. 


When  baby  stands  upon  his  base, 

Just  after  having  kicked, 
Upon  his  Scandinavian  face 

Appears  the  legend,   "Licked"; 
But  when  he  orders  out  a  sub, 

We  well  may  hip-hooray — 
Chicago  has  the  winning  club 

When  Baby  doesn't  play. 


But,  if  our  Baby's  getting  old, 
And  stiff,  and  cross,  and  vain, 

And  if  his  days  are  nearly  told, 
Oh,   let  us  not  complain. 


HOOSIER  LYRICS.  105 

Let's  rather  think  of  what  he  was 

And  how  he's  made  it  pay 
To  hire  the  kids  that  win  because 

Our  Baby  doesn't  play. 


106  EOOSIEE  LYRICS. 


THE  COLOR  THAT  SUITS  ME  BEST. 


Any  color — so  long  as  it's  red — 

Is  the  color  that  suits  me  best, 
Though  I  will  allow  there  is  much  to  be  said 

For  yellow  and  green  and  the  rest; 
But  the  feeble  tints,  which  some  afifect 

In  the  things  they  make  or  buy, 
Have  never  (I  say  it  with  all  respect) 

Appealed  to  my  critical  eye. 


There's  that  in  red  that  warmeth  the  blood 

And  quickeneth  a  man  within, 
And  bringeth  to  speedy  and  perfect  bud 

The  germs  of  original  sin; 
So,  though  I  am  properly  born  and  bred, 

I'll  own,  with  a  certain  zest, 
That  any  color — so  long  as  it's  red — 

Is  the  color  that  suits  me  best! 


For  where  is  a  color  that  can  be  compared 
With  the  blush  of  a  buxom  lass — 

Or  where  such  warmth  as  of  the  hair 
Of  the  genuine  white  horse  class? 


HOOSIER  LYRICS.  107 


And,  lo,  reflected  in  this  cup 
Of  cherry  Bordeaux  I  see 

What  inspiration  girdeth  me  up — 
Yes,  red  is  the  color  for  me! 


Through  acres  and  acres  of  art  I've  strayed 

In  Italy,   Germany,  France; 
On  many  a  picture  a  master  has  made 

I've  squandered  a  passing  glance; 
Marines  I  hate,  madonnas  and 

Those  Dutch  freaks  I  detest ! 
But  the  peerless  daubs  of  my  native  land — 

They're  red,  and  I  like  them  best! 


'Tis  little  I  care  how  folks  deride— 

I'm  backed  by  the  west,  at  least, 
And  we  are  free  to  say  that  we  can't  abide 

The  tastes  that  obtain  down  east; 
And  we  are  mighty  proud  to  have  it  said 

That  here  in  the  critical  west, 
Most  any  color — so  long  as  it's  red — 

Is  the  color  that  suits  us  best! 


108  HOOSIEE  LYRICS. 


HOW  TO  "FILL/ 


It  is  understood  that  our  esteemed  Col.  Franc 
B.  Wilkie  is  going  to  formulate  a  reply  4o  Mrs. 
Ella  Wheeler  Wilcox's  latest  poem,  which  begins 
as  follows: 

"I  hold  it  as  a  changeless  law 

From  which  no  soul  can  sway  or  swerve, 

We  have  that  in  us  which  will  draw 
Whate  'er  we  need  or  most  deserve. ' ' 


We  fancy  the  genial  colonel  will  start  off  with 
some  such  quatrain  as  this: 

"I  fain  would  have  your  recipe, 
If  you'll  but  give  the  snap  away; 

Now  when  four  clubs  are  dealt  to  me, 
How  may  I  draw  another,  pray?" 


HOOSIER  LYRICS.  109 


POLITICS  IN  1888. 


The  Cleveland  Leader  must  be  getting  ready  for 
the  campaign  of  1888.  We  find  upon  its  editorial 
page  quite  a  pretentious  poem,  entitled  "Alpha 
and  Omega,"  and  here  is  a  sample  stanza: 

"Whose  name  will  stand  for  coming  time 
As  hypocrites  in  prose  and  rhyme, 
And  be  despised  in  every  clime? 

The  Mugwumps." 

Well,  may  be  so,  but  may  we  be  permitted  to  add 
a  stanza  which  seems  to  us  to  be  very  pertinent 
just  now? 

And  who  next  year,  we'd  like  to  know, 
Will  feed  the  Cleveland  Leader  crow, 
Just  as  they  did  three  years  ago? 

The  Mugwumps. 


110  HOOSIER  LYRICS. 


THE  BASEBALL  SCORE. 


A  boy  came  racing  down  the  street 

In  a  most  tumultuous  way, 
And  he  hollered  at  all  he  chanced  to  meet: 

"Hooray,  hooray,  hooray!" 
His  eyes  and  his  breath  were  hot  with  joy 

And  his  cheeks  were  all  aflame — 
'Twas  a  rare  event  with  the  little  boy 

When  the  champions  won  a  game! 


"Twenty  to  6"  and  "10  to  2" 

Were  rather  dismal  scores, 
And  they  wreathed  in  a  somewhat  somber  hue 

These  classic  western  shores; 
We  shuddered  and  winced  at  the  cruel  sport 

And  our  heads  were  bowed  in  shame 
'Till  Somewhere  sent  us  the  glad  report 

That  the  champions  won  the  game! 


Our  Baby  says  it'll  be  all  right 
For  the  champions  by  and  by, 

And  the  twin  emotions  of  Hope  and  Fright 
Gleam  in  his  cod  fish  eye; 


H008IER  LYRICS.  Ill 

And  Spalding  says  (in  his  modest  way) 
That  we'll  get  there  all  the  same; 

So  let  us  holler,  "Hooray,  hooray," 
When  the  champions  win  the  game. 


112  E008IER  LYRICS. 


CHICAGO  NEWSPAPER  LIFE. 


It  pleases  us  to  observe  that  the  shocking  habit 
of  hurling  opprobrious  epithets  at  each  other  has 
been  abandoned  by  the  venerable  editor  of  the 
Journal  and  the  venerable  editor  of  the  Tribune. 
At  this  moment  we  are  reminded  of  the  inspired 
lines  of  the  eminent  but  now,  alas!  neglected 
Watts: 


"Birds  in  their  nests  agree, 

And   'tis  a  shocking  sight 
When  folks,  who  should  harmonious  be, 

Fall  out  and  chide  and  fight. 


"The  tones  of  Andy  and  of  Joe 
Should  join  in  friendly  games — 

Not  be  debased  to  vice  so  low 
As  that  of  calling  names. 


"Bad  names  and  naughty  names  require 

To  be  chastized  at  school, 
But  he's  in  danger  of  hell-fire 

Who  talks  of  'crank'  and  'fool.' 


HOOSIEB  LYRICS.  113 

"Oh  'tis  a  dreadful  thing  to  see 

The  old  folks  smite  and  jaw, 
But  pleasanf  it  is  to  agree 

On  the  election  law. 


"Let  Joe  and  Andy  leave  their  wrongs 

For  sinners  to   contest; 
So  shall  they  some  time  swell  the  songs 

Of   Israel's   ransomed   blest." 


114  EOOSIER  LYRICS. 


THE  MIGHTY  WEST. 


Oh,  where  abides  the  fond  kazoo, 

The  barrel-organ  fair, 
And  where  is  heard  the  tra-la-loo 

Of  fish  horns  on  the  air? 
And  where  are  found  the  fife  and  drum 

Discoursed  with  goodliest  zest? 
And  where  do  fiddles  liveliest  hum? 

The  west — the  mighty  west! 


Sonatas,  fugues,  and  all  o'  that 

Are  rightly  judged  effete, 
While  largos  written  in  B-flat 

Are  clearly  out  of  date; 
Some  like  the  cold  pianny-forty, 

But  whistling  suits  us  best — 
And  op'ry,  if  it  isn't  naughty, 

Will  not  catch  on  out  west. 


From  skinning  hogs  or  canning  beef 

Or  diving  into  stocks, 
Could  we  expect  to  find  relief 

In  Haydns  or  in  Baehs? 


HOOSIEE  LYRICS.  115 

Ah,  no;  from  pork  and  wheat  and  lard 

We  turn  aside  with  zest 
To  sing  some  opus  of  some  bard 

Whose  home  is  in  the  west. 


So  get  ye  gone,  ye  weakling  crew! 

Your  tunes  are  stale  and  flat, 
And  cannot  hold  a  candle  to 

The  works  of  Silas  Pratt! 
His  opuses  are  in  demand 

And  are  the  final  test 
By  which  all  others  fall  or  stand 

In  this  the  mighty  west! 


116  HOOSIER  LYRICS. 


APRIL. 


Now  April  with  sweet  showers  of  freshening  rain 
Has  roused  last  summer's  vigorous  breath  once 

more; 

'Tis  in  the  air,  the  house,  the  street,  the  lane — 
Puffs  through  the  walls  and  oozes  through  the 
floor. 


The  rau-cous-throated  frog  ayont  the  sty 

Sends  forth,  as  erst,  his  amerous  vermal  croak; 

Each  hungry  mooly  casts  her  swivel  eye 

For  pots  and  pails  in  which  her  nose  to  poke. 


With  gurgling  glee  the  gutter  gushes  by, 

Fraught  all  with  filth,  unknown  and  nameless 
dirt— 

A  dead  green  goose,  an  o'er-ripe  rat  I  spy; 
Head  of  a  cat,  tail  of  a  flannel  shirt. 


The  querulous  cry  of  every  gabbling  goose 
From  thousand-scented   mu dholes  echoes   o'er; 

The  dogs  and  yawling  cats  have  gotten  loose 
And  mock  the  hideous  howls  of  hell  once  more. 


HOOSIEB  LYRICS.  117 

By  yon  scrub  oak,  where  roots  the  sallow  sow, 
In  where  John  Murphy 's  wife  outpours  her  slop ; 

Right  there  you'll  find  there's  almost  stench  now 
To  cause  the  world  its  nostrils  to  estop. 


And  yonder  dauntless  goat  that  bank  adown, 
That  wreathes  his  old  fantastic  horns  so  high, 

Gnaws  sadly  on  the  bustle  of  Miss  Brown, 
Which  she  discarded  in  the  months  gone  by. 


So  in  Goose  Island  cometh  April  round; 

Full  eagerly  we  watch  the  month's  approach — 
The  season  of  sweet  sight  and  pleasant  sound, 

The  season  of  the  bedbug  and  the  roach. 


118  EOOSIER  LYRICS. 


REPORT   OF   THE   BASEBALL   GAME. 


It  was  a  very  pleasant  game, 

And  there  was  naught  of  grumbling 
Until  the  baleful  tidings   came 

That  Williamson  was  "fumbling." 
Then  all  at  once  a  hideous  gloom 

Fell  o'er  all  manly  features, 
And  Clayton's  cDzy,  quiet  room 

Was  full  of  frantic  creatures. 


'Click,  click,"  the  tiny  ticker  went, 

The  tape  began  to  rattle, 
And  pallid,  eager  faces  bent 

To  read  the  news  from  battle; 
Down,  down,  ten  million  feet  or  more, 

Chicago's  hope  went  tumbling, 
When  came  the  word  that  Burns  and  Gore 

And  Pfeffer,  too,  were  "fumbling." 


No  diagram  was  needed  then 

To  point  the  Browns  to  glory — 

The  simple  fact  that  these  four  men 
Were  "fumbling"  told  the  story. 


HOOSIER  LYRICS.  119 

There  is  not  a  club  in  all  the  land — 
No  odds  how  weak  or  humble — 

That  beats  us  when  our  short-stop  and 
Our   second   baseman   "fumble." 


There  was  some  talk  of  hippodrome 

'Mid  frequent  calls  for  liquor, 
Then  each  Chicago  man  went  home 

Much  wiser,  poorer,  sicker; 
And  many  a  giant  intellect 

Seemed  slowly,   surely  crumbling 
Beneath  the  dolorous  effect 

Of  that  St.  Louis  "fumbling." 


Ah,  well,  the  struggle's  but  just  begun, 

So  what  is  the  use  of  fretting 
If  by  a  little  harmless  fun 

Our  boys  can  bull  the  betting? 
When  comes  the  tug  of  war  there'll  be 

No  accidental  stumbling, 
And  then,  you  bet  your  boots,  you'll  see 

No  mention  made  of  "fumbling." 


120  EOOSIEB  LYRICS. 


THE  ROSE. 


Since  the  days  of  old  Adam  the  welkin  has  rung 
With  the  praises  of  sweet  scented  posies, 

And  poets  in  rapturous  phrases  have  sung 
The  paramount  beauties  of  roses. 


Wheresoever  she  bides,  whether  nestling  in  lanes 
Or  gracing  the  proud  urban  bowers, 

The  red,  royal  rose  her  distinction  maintains 
As  the  one  regnant  queen  among  flowers. 


How  joyous  are  we  of  the  west  when  we  find 
That  Fate,  with  her  gifts  ever  chary, 

Has  decreed  that  the  Rose,  who  is  queen  of  her 

kind 
Shall  bloom  on  our  wild  western  prairie. 


Let  us  laugh  at  the  east  as  an  impotent  thing 

With  envy  and  jealously  crazy, 
While  grateful  Chicago  is  happy  to  sing 

In  the  praise  of  the  rose — she's  a  daisy. 


HOOSIEB  LYRICS.  121 


KANSAS  CITY  VS.  DETROIT. 


A  rooster  flapped  his  wings  and  crowed 

A  merrysome  cockadoodledoo, 
As  out  of  the  west  a  cowboy  rode 

To  the  land  where  the  peach  and  the  clapboard 
grew, 

Humming  a  gentle  tralalaloo. 

"0  insect  with  the  gilded  wing," 

The  cowboy  cried,  "Pray  tell  me  true 

Why  do  you  crane  your  neck  and  sing 
That  wearisome  cockadoodledoo? 
Would  you  like  to  learn  the  tralalaloo?" 

Now  the  rooster  squawked  an  impudent  word 
Whereat  the  angered  cowboy  threw 

His  lariat  at  the  haughty  bird 

And  choked  him  until  his  gills  were  blue 
And  his  eyes  hung  out  an  inch  or  two. 

"Now  hear  me  sing,"  the  cowboy  cried; 
"It  ain't  no  cockadoodledoo — 

It's  a  song  we  sing  on  the  prairies  wide — 
The  simple  song  of  tralalaloo, 
Which  is  cowboy  slang  for  12  to  2." 


122  HOOSIER  LYEICS. 


ME  AND  BILKAMMLE. 


I  will,  if  you  choose, 
Impart  you  some  news 

That  will  greatly  astound  you,  I  know; 
You  would  never  suspect 
My  ambition  was  wreck 'd 

'Till  you  heard  my  confession  of  woe. 
'Tis  not  that  my  boom 
Has  ascended  the  flume — 

In  other  words,  gone  up  the  spout — 
I  could  smile  a  sweet  smile 
This  tempestuous   while, 

But  me  and  Bilkammle  are  out! 

Being  timid  and  shrinkin', 

He  did  all  the  thinkin', 
When  I  did  the  talkin'  worth  mention; 

Twas  my  constant  ambition 

To  soar  to  position 
So  I  gave  it  exclusive  attention; 

And  supposin'  that  he 

Would  of  course  be  for  me, 
I  rambled  and  prattled  about 

'Till  I  found  to  my  horror, 

Vexation,   and   sorror, 
That  me  and  Bilkammle  were  out. 


HOOSIER  LYRICS.  123 

As  I  tore  my  red  hair 

In  a  fit  of  despair 
I  heard  my  Achates  complain 

That  the  gent  with  the  coffer 

Had  nothing  to  offer 
In  the  way  of  relieving  his  pain ! 

If  there's  mortal  to  blame 

For  this  villainous  game 
Which  has  snuffed  a  great  man  beyond  doubt. 

It's  that  treacherous  mammal 

Entitled  Bilkammle — 
Which  accounts  for  us  two  bein'  out! 


124  EOOSIER  LYKICS. 


TO  THE  DETROIT  BASEBALL  CLUB. 


You've  scooped  the  vealy  city  crowd 

Of  glory  and  of  purse — 
Why  shouldn't  Pegasus  be  proud 

To  trot  you  out  in  a  verse? 
Chicago  hoped  to  wallop  you 

By  a  tremendous  score, 
But  bit  off  more  than  it  could  chew, 

As  witness:  "5  to  4." 


Well  done,  you  'Ganders!  here's  a  hand 

To  every  one  of  you; 
These  record-breakers  of  the  land 

Now  break  themselves  in  two. 
We'll  get  their  pennant — it  shall  float 

Upon  our  distant  shore, 
So  let  each  patriotic  throat 

Hurrah  for  "5  to  4." 


HOOSIER  LYRICS.  125 


A  BALLAD  OF  ANCIENT  OATHS. 


Ther  ben  a  knyght,  Sir  Hoten  hight, 

That  on  a  time  did  swere 
In  mighty  store  othes  miekle  sore, 

Whiche  grieved  his  wiffe  to  here. 

Soth,  whenne  she  scoft,  his  wiffe  did  oft 

Swere  as  a  lady  may; 
"I 'faith,"  "I 'sooth, "'or  "lawk"  in  truth 

Ben  alle  that  wiffe  wold  say. 

Soe  whenne  her  good  man  waxed  him  wood 

She  mervailed  much  to  here 
The  hejeous  sound  of  othes  full  round 

The  which  her  lord  did  swere. 

"Now,  pray  thee,  speke  and  tell  me  eke 
What  thing  hath  vexed  thee  soe?" 

The  wiffe  she  cried;  but  he  replied 
By  swereing  moe  and  moe. 

Her  sweren  zounds  which  be  Gog's  wounds, 

By  bricht  Marie  and  Gis, 
By  sweit  Sanct  Ann  and  holie  Tan 

And  by  Bryde's  bell,  ywis. 


126  HOOSIER  LYRICS. 

By  holie  grails,  by  'slids  and  'snails, 
By  old  Sanct  Dunstan  bauld, 

The  virgin  faire  that  him  did  beare, 
By  him  that  Judas  sauld; 

By  "Arthure's  sword,  by  Paynim  horde, 

By  holie  modyr's  teir, 
By  Cokis  breath,  by  Zooks  and  's  death, 

And  by  Sanct  Swithen  deir; 

By  divells  alle,  both  greate  and  smalle, 

And  in  hell  there  be, 
By  bread  and  salt,  and  by  Gog's  malt, 

And  by  the  blody  tree; 

By  Him  that  worn  the  crown  of  thorn 

And  by  the  sun  and  mone, 
By  deir  Sanct  Blanc  and  Sanct  Fillane, 

And  three  kings  of  Cologne; 

By  the  gude  Lord  and  His  sweit  word, 

By  him  that  herryit  hell, 
By  blessed  Jude,  by  holie  rude, 

And  eke  be  Gad  himsell! 


He  sweren  soe  (and  mickle  moe) 
It  made  man's  flesch  to  creepen, 

The  air  ben  blue  with  his  ado 
And  sore  his  wiffe  ben  wepen. 


KOOSIER' LYRICS.  127 

Giff  you  wold  know  why  sweren  soe 

The  goodman  high  Sir  Hoten, 
He  ben  full  wroth,  because,  in  soth, 

He  leesed  his  coler  boten. 


128  HOOSIER  LYRICS. 


AN  OLD  SONG  REVISED. 


John  Hamilton,  my  Jo  John, 

When  first  we  were  acquaint 
You  were  as  lavish  as  could  be 

With  your  vennillion  paint; 
But  now  the  head  that  once  was  red 

Seems  veiled  in  sable  woe, 
And  clouds  of  gloom  obscure  your  boom, 

John  Hamilton,  my  Jo. 


Oh,  was  it  Campbell's  hatchet  wrought 

The  ruin  we  deplore? 
Or  was  it  Abnor  Taylor's  thirst 

For  your  abundant  gore? 
Or  was  it  Hank's  ambitious  pranks 

That  laid  our  idol  low? 
Come,  let  us  know  how  came  you  so, 

John  Hamilton,  my  Joe! 


We  pine  to  know  the  awful  truth, 
So,  pray,  be  pleased  to  tell 

The  story — full  of  tragic  fire — 
How  one  great  statesman  fell; 


HOOSIER  LYRICS.  129 

How  dives'  hand  stalked  in  the  land 

And  dealt  a  crushing  blow 
At  one  proud  name — which  you're  the  same, 

John  Hamilton,  my  Jo ! 


130  EOOS1EE  LYRICS. 


THE  GRATEFUL  PATIENT. 


The  doctor  leaned  tenderly  over  the  bed 
And  looked  at  the  patient's  complexion, 
And  felt  of  the  pulse  and  the  feverish  head, 
Then  stood  for  a  time  in  reflection. 
"A  strange  complication! 
My  recommendation 
Is  morphia  by  hypodermic  injection." 


The  patient  looked  up  with  a  leer  in  his  eye 

And   winked   in  the   doctor's   direction — 
"Well,  Doc,"  he  remarked,  "since  you  say  I  must 

die, 

I'm  grateful  to  you  for  protection — 
I'm  now  in  position 
To  ask  the  commission 
T'  excuse  me  from  serving  as  judge  of  election." 


H008IER  LYRICS.  131 


THE  BEGINNING  AND  THE  END. 


Death 

In  my  breath, 

Cried  I  then: 

"Men 

Burn  and  blight! 

Nourish  crime! 

Scale  the  height! 

Climb,  men,  climb! 
Climb   and  fight! 
Win  by  might! 
Wrong  or  right! 

Blood!" 


Well 

In  a  cell 

Here  I  am — 

D n! 

From  my  flight 

So  sublime 
I  alight 

Ere  my  time, 
And   in   fright 

Here  I  grope 
Through  the  night 


132  EOOSIEE  LYRICS. 

Without  hope. 
What  a  plight! 
Ah,   the  rope! 
Thud! 


HOOSIER  LYRICS.  133 


CLARE  MARKET. 


In  the  market  of  Clare,  so  cheery  the  glare 

Of  the  shops  and  the  booths  of  the  tradespeople 

there, 

That  I  take  a  delight,  on  a  Saturday  night, 
In  walking  that  way  and  viewing  the  sight; 
For  it's  here  that  one  sees  all  the  objects  that 

please — 

New  patterns  in  silk  and  old  patterns  in  cheese, 
For  the  girls  pretty  toys,  rude  alarums  for  boys, 
And  baubles  galore  which  discretion  enjoys — 
But  here  I  forbear,  for  I  really  despair 
Of  naming  the  wealth  of  the  market  of  Clare! 

The  rich  man  comes  down  from  the  elegant  town, 
And  looks  at  it  all  with  an  ominous  frown ; 
He  seems  to  despise  the  grandiloquent  cries 
Of  the  vender  proclaiming  his  puddings  and  pies; 
And  sniffing  he  goes  through  the  lanes  that  disclose 
Much  cause  for  disgust  to  his  sensitive  nose; 
Once  free  from  the  crowd,  he  admits  that  he  is 

proud 

That  elsewhere  in  London  this  thing's    not    al- 
lowed— • 

He  has  seen  nothing  there  but  filth  everywhere, 
And  he's  glad  to  get  out  of  the  market  of  Clare. 


134  HOOSIER  LYRICS. 

But  the  child  that  has  come  from  the  neighboring 

slum 

Is  charmed  by  the  magic  of  dazzle  and  hum; 
He  feasts  his  big  eyes  on  the  cakes  and  pies 
And  they  seem  to  grow  green  and  protrude  with 

surprise 
At  the  goodies  they  vend  and  the  toys  without 

end — 

And  it 's  oh  if  he  had  but  a  penny  to  spend ! 
But  alas!  he  must  gaze  in  a  hopeless  amaze 
At  treasures  that  glitter  and  torches  that  blaze — 
What  sense  of  despair  in  this  world  can  compare 
With  that  of  the  waif  in  the  market  of  Clare  ? 


So,  on  Saturday  nights,  when  my  custom  invites 

A  stroll  in  old  London  for  curious  sights, 

I  am  likely  to  stray  by  a  devious  way 

Where  goodies  are  spread  in  a  motley  array, 

The  things  which  some  eyes  would  appear  to  despise 

Impress  me  as  pathos  in  homely  disguise, 

And  my  tattered  waif  friend  shall  have  pennies  to 

spend, 

As  long  as  I've  got  'em  (or  friends  that  will  lend)  ; 
And  the  urchin  shall  share  in  my  joy  and  declare 
That  there's  beauty  and  good  in  that  marketplace 

there ! 


HOOSIER  LYRICS.  135 


UNCLE  EPHRAIM. 


My  Uncle  Ephraim  was  a  man  who  did  not  live  in 
vain, 

And  yet,  why  he  succeeded  so  I  never  could  ex- 
plain ; 

By  nature  he  was  not  endowed  with  wit  to  a  degree, 

But  folks  allowed  there  nowhere  lived  a  better  man 
than  he ; 

He  started  poor  but  soon  got  rich ;  he  went  to  con- 
gress then, 

And  held  that  post  of  honor  long  against  much 
brainier  men ; 

He  never  made  a  famous  speech  or  did  a  thing  of 
note, 

And  yet  the  praise  of  Uncle  Eph  welled  up  from 
every  throat. 

I  recollect  I  never  heard  him  say  a  bitter  word ; 

He  never  carried  to  and  fro  unpleasant  things  he 
heard ; 

He  always  doffed  his  hat  and  spoke  to  every  one  he 
knew, 

He  tipped  to  poor  and  rich  alike  a  genial  "how- 
dy'-do"; 

He  kissed  the  babies,  praised  their  looks,  and  said : 
"That  child  will  grow 


136  HO  OSIER  LYRICS. 

To  be  a  Daniel  Webster  or  our  president,  I  know!" 
His  voice  was  so  mellifluous,  his  smile  so  full  of 

mirth, 
That  folks  declared  he  was  the  best  and  smartest 

man  on  earth! 


Now,  father  was  a  smarter  man,  and  yet  he  never 
won 

Such  wealth  and  fame  as  Uncle  Eph,  "the  dees- 
trick's  favorite  son"; 

He  had  "convictions"  and  he  was  not  loath  to 
speak  his  mind — 

He  went  his  way  and  said  his  say  as  he  might  be 
inclined ; 

Yes,  he  was  brainy;  yet  his  life  was  hardly  a  suc- 
cess— 

He  was  too  honest  and  too  smart  for  this  vain 
world,  I  guess! 

At  any  rate,  I  wondered  he  was  unsuccessful  when 

My  Uncle  Eph,  a  duller  man,  was  so  revered  of 
men! 


When  Uncle  Eph  was  dying  he  called  me  to  his 

bed, 

And  in  a  tone  of  confidence  inviolate  he  said : 
' '  Dear  Willyum,  ere  I  seek  repose  in  yonder  blissful 

sphere 
I  fain  would  breathe  a  secret  in  your  adolescent 

ear; 


HOOSIER  LYRICS.  137 

Strive  not  to  hew  your  way  through  life — it  really 

doesn't  pay; 
Be  sure  the  salve  of  flattery  soaps  all  you  do  and 

say! 
Herein  the  only  royal  road  to  fame  and  fortune 

lies; 
Put  not  your  trust  in  vinegar — molasses  catches 


138  HOOSIER  LYRICS. 


THIRTY-NINE. 


0  hapless  day!    O   wretched  day! 

I  hoped  you'd  pass  me  by — 
Alas,  the  years  have  sneaked  away 

And  all  is  changed  but  I ! 
Had  I  the  power,  I  would  remand 

You  to  a  gloom  condign, 
But  here  you've  crept  upon  me  and 

I — I  am  thirty-nine ! 


Now,  were  I  thirty-five,  I  could 

Assume  a  flippant  guise, 
Or,  were  I  forty  years,  I  should 

Undoubtedly  look  wise ; 
For  forty  years  are  said  to  bring 

Sedateness  superfine, 
But  thirty-nine  don't  mean  a  thing — 

A  las  with  thirty-nine ! 


You  healthy,  hulking  girls  and  boys—- 
What makes  you  grow  so  fast? 

Oh,  I'll  survive  your  lusty  noise — 
I'm  tough  and  bound  to  last! 


EOOSIER  LYRICS.  139 

No,  no — I'm  old  and  withered,  too — 

I  feel  my  powers  decline. 
(Yet  none  believes  this  can  be  true 

Of  one  at  thirty-nine.) 


And  you,  dear  girl  with  velvet  eyes, 

I  wonder  what  you  mean 
Through  all  our  keen  anxieties 

By  keeping  sweet  sixteen. 
With  your  dear  love  to  warm  my  heart, 

Wretch  were  I  to  repine — 
I  was  but  jesting  at  the  start — 

I  'm  glad  I  'm  thirty-nine ! 


So,  little  children,  roar  and  race 

As  blithely  as  you  can 
And,  sweetheart,  let  your  tender  grace 

Exalt  the  Day  and  Man; 
For  then  these  factors  (I'll  engage) 

All  subtly  shall  combine 
To  make  both  juvenile  and  sage 

The  one  who's  thirty-nine! 


Yes,  after  all,  I'm  free  to  say 

That  I  rejoice  to  be 
Standing  as  I  do  stand  to-day 

'Twixt  devil  and  deep  sea; 


140  HOOSIER  LYRICS. 

For,  though  my  face  be  dark  with  care 
Or  with  a  grimace  shine, 

Each  haply  falls  unto  my  share; 
Since  I  am  thirty-nine! 


'Tis  passing  meet  to  make  good  cheer 

And  lord  it  like  a  king, 
Since  only  once  we  catch  the  year 

That  doesn't  mean  a  thing. 
0  happy  day !  0  gracious  day ! 

I  pledge  thee  in  this  wine — 
Come  let  us  journey  on  our  way 

A  year,  good  Thirty-Nine! 


HOOSIER  LYRICS.  141 


HORACE  I,  18. 


0  Varus  mine 
Plant  thou  the  vine 

Within  this  kindly  soil  of  Tibur; 

Nor  temporal  woes 

Nor  spiritual  knows 
The  man  who's  a  discreet  imbiber. 

For  who  doth  croak 

Of  being  broke 
Or  who  of  warfare,  after  drinking? 

With  bowl  atween  us, 

Of  smiling  Venus 
And  Bacchus  shall  we  sing,  I'm  thinking. 

Of  symptoms  fell 

Which  brawls  impel 
Historic  data  give  us  warning; 

The  wretch  who  fights 

When  full  of  nights 
Is  bound  to  have  a  head  next  morning. 

1  do  not  scorn 

A  friendly  horn, 
But  noisy  toots — I  can't  abide  'em! 

Your  howling  bat 

Is  stale  and  flat 
To  one  who  knows,  because  he's  tried  'em I 


142  HOOSIER  LYRICS. 

The  secrets  of 

The  life  of  love 
(Companionship  with  girls  and  toddy) 

I  would  not  drag 

With  drunken  brag 
Into  the  ken  of  everybody, 

But  in  the  shade 

Let  some  coy  maid 
With  smilax  wreathe  my  flagon's  nozzle — 

Then,  all  day  long, 

With  mirth  and  song, 
Shall  I  enjoy  a  quiet  sozzle! 


HOOSIER  LYRICS.  143 


THREE  RHINELAND  DRINKING 
SONGS. 


If  our  life  is  the  life  of  a  flower 

(And  that's  what  some  sages  are  thinking), 
We  should  moisten  the  bud  with  a  health-giving 

flood 

And  'twill  bloom  all  the  sweeter — 
Yes,  life's  the  completer 
For  drinking, 

and  drinking, 

and  drinking ! 

If  it  be  that  our  life  is  a  journey 

(As  many  wise  folks  are  opining), 
We  should  sprinkle  the  way  with  the  rain  while  we 

may; 

Though  dusty  and  dreary, 
'Tis  made  cool  and  cheery 
With  wining, 

and  wining, 

and  wining! 

If  this  life  that  we  live  be  a  dreaming 
(As  pessimist  people  are  thinking), 


144  HOOSIER  LYEICS. 

To  induce  pleasant  dreams  there  is  nothing,  me 

seems, 

Like  this  sweet  prescription, 
That  baffles  description — 
This  drinking, 

and  drinking, 

and  drinking ! 


n. 

("Fidncit") 

Three  comrades  on  the  German  Rhine — 

Defying  care  and  weather — 
Together  quaffed  the  mellow  wine 

And  sung  their  songs  together, 
What  recked  they  of  the  griefs  of  life. 

With  wine  and  song  to  cheer  them? 
Though  elsewhere  trouble  might  be  rife, 

It  would  not  come  anear  them! 


Anon  one  comrade  passed  away, 

And  presently  another — 
And  yet  unto  the  tryst  each  day 

Repaired  the  lonely  brother, 
And  still,  as  gayly  as  of  old, 

That  third  one,  hero-hearted, 
Filled  to  the  brim  each  cup  of  gold 

And  called  to  the  departed : 


HOOSIER  LYRICS.  145 

"O  comrades  mine,  I  see  you  not, 

Nor  hear  your  kindly  greeting; 
Yet  in  this  old  familiar  spot 

Be  still  our  loving  meeting! 
Here  have  I  filled  each  bouting  cup 

With  juices  red  and  cherry — 
I  pray  ye  drink  the  portion  up, 

And,  as  of  old,  make  merry!" 


And  once  before  his  tear-dimmed  eyes, 

All  in  the  haunted  gloaming, 
He  saw  two  ghostly  figures  rise 

And  quaff  the  beakers  foaming; 
He  heard  two  spirit  voices  call: 

"Fiducit,  jovial  brother!" 
And  so  forever  from  that  hall 

Went  they  with  one  another. 


III. 

(Der  Mann  im  Keller.) 

How  cool  and  fair  this  cellar  where 

My  throne  a  dusky  cask  is! 
To  do  no  thing  but  just  to  sing 
And  drown  the  time  my  task  is ! 
The  cooper,  he's 
Resolved  to  please, 


146  HOOSIER  LYRICS. 

And,  answering  to  my  winking, 

He  fills  me  up 

Cup  after  cup 
For  drinking,  drinking,  drinking. 


Begrudge  me  not  this  cozy  spot 

In  which  I  am  reclining — 
Why,  who  would  burst  with  envious  thirst 

When  he  can  live  by  wining? 
A  roseate  hue  seems  to  imbue 

The  world  on  which  I'm  blinking; 
My  fellow  men — I  love  them  when 

I'm  drinking,  drinking,  drinking. 


And  yet,  I  think,  the  more  I  drink, 

It's  more  and  more  I  pine  for — 
Oh  such  as  I  (forever  dry!) 

God  made  this  land  of  Rhine  for! 

And  there  is  bliss 

In  knowing  this, 
As  to  the  floor  I'm  sinking; 

I've  wronged  no  man, 

And  never  can, 
While  drinking,  drinking,  drinking! 


HOOSIER  LYRICS.  147 

THE  THREE  TAILORS. 

(From  the  German  of  C.  Herlossohn.) 

I  shall  tell  you  in  rhyme  how,  once  on  a  time, 
Three  tailors  tramped  up  to  the  Inn  Ingleheim 

On  the  Rhine — lovely  Rhine; 
They  were  broke,  but,  the  worst  of  it  all,  they  were 

curst 
With  that  malady  common  to  tailors — a  thirst 

For  wine — lots  of  wine ! 


"Sweet  host,"  quoth  the  three,  "we're  as  hard  up 

as  can  be, 
Yet  skilled  in  the  practice  of  cunning  are  we 

On  the  Rhine — genial  Rhine; 
And  we  pledge  you  we  will  impart  you  that  skill 
Right  quickly  and  fully,  providing  you'll  fill 

Us  with  wine — cooling  wine ! ' ' 


But  that  host  shook  his  head,  and  warily  said: 
"Though  cunning  be  good,  we  take  money  instead, 

On  the  Rhine — thrifty  Rhine; 
If  ye  fancy  ye  may  without  pelf  have  your  way 
You'll  find  there's  both  host  and  the  devil  to  pay 

For  your  wine — costly  wine ! ' ' 


148  HOOSIER  LYRICS. 

Then  the  first  knavish  wight  took  his    needle    so 

bright 
And  threaded  its  eye  with  a  wee  ray  of  light 

From  the  Rhine — sunny  Rhine; 
And  in  such  a  deft  way  patched  a  mirror  that  day 
That  where  it  was  mended  no  expert  could  say — 

Done  so  fine — 'twas  for  wine! 


The  second  thereat  spied  a  poor  little  gnat 
Go  toiling  along  on  his  nose  broad  and  flat 

Toward  the  Rhine — pleasant  Rhine; 
"Aha,  tiny  friend,  I  should  hate  to  offend, 
But  your  stockings  need  darning, ' '  which  same  did 
he  mend, 

All  for  wine — soothing  wine ! 


And  next  there  occurred  what  you'll  deem  quite 

absurd — 
His  needle  a  space  in  the  wall  thrust  the  third, 

By  the  Rhine — wondrous  Rhine; 
And  then,  all  so  spry,  he  leapt  through  the  eye 
Of  that  thin  cambric  needle;  nay,  think  you  I'd  lie 

About  wine?    Not  for  wine! 


The  landlord  allowed  (with  a  smile)  he  was  proud 
To  do  the  fair  thing  by  that  talented  crowd 
On  the  Rhine — generous  Rhine! 


HOOSIER  LYRICS.  149 

So  a  thimble  filled  he  as  full  as  could  be ; 

"Drink  long  and  drink  hearty,  my  jolly  guests 

three, 
Of  my  wine — filling  wine ! ' ' 


150  HOOSIER  LYRICS. 


MORNING  HYMN. 


I'd  dearly  love  to  tear  my  hair 

And  romp  around  a  bit, 
For  I  am  mad  enough  to  swear 

Since  Brother  Chauncy  quit. 

I  am  so  vilely  prone  to  sin — 

Vain  ribald  that  I  am — 
I'd  take  a  hideous  pleasure  in 

Just  one  prodigious  "damn." 

But  shall  I  yield  to  Satan's  wiles 
And  let  my  passions  swell? 

Nay,  I  will  wreath  my  face  in  smiles. 
And  mock  the  powers  of  hell. 

And  howsoever  pride  may  roll 
Its  billows  through  my  frame, 

I'll  not  condemn  my  precious  soul 
Unto  the  quenchless  flame ! 

But  rather  will  I  humbly  pray 

Divinity  to  wash 
From  out  my  mouth  such  words  away 

As  "Jimmy"  and  "Gosh." 


HOOSIER  LYRICS.  151 


DOCTORS. 


'Tis  quite  the  thing  to  say  and  sing 

Gross  libels  on  the  doctor — 
To  picture  him  an  ogre  grim 

Or  humbug-pill  concocter; 
Yet  it's  in  quite  another  light 

My  friendly  pen  would  show  him — 
Glad  that  it  might  with  verse  repay 

Some  part  of  what  I  owe  him! 


When  one's  all  right  he's  prone  to  spite 

The  doctor's  peaceful  mission; 
But,  when  he's  sick,  it's  loud  and  quick 

He  bawls  for  a  physician! 
With  other  things  the  doctor  brings 

Sweet  babes  our  hearts  to  soften; 
Though  I  have  four,  I  pine  for  more — 

Good  doctor,  pray,  come  often! 


What  though  he  sees  death  and  disease 

Run  riot  all  around  him, 
Patient  and  true,  and  valorous,  too — 

Such  have  I  always  found  him ! 


152  HOOSIEE  LYRICS. 

Where'er  he  goes  he  soothes  our  woes, 
And,  when  skill's  unavailing 

And  death  is  near,  his  words  of  cheer 
Support  our  courage  failing. 


In  ancient  days  they  used  to  praise 

The  godlike  art  of  healing; 
An  art  that  then  engaged  all  men 

Possessed  of  sense  and  feeling; 
Why,  Raleigh — he  was  glad  to  be 

Famed  for  a  quack  elixir, 
And  Digby  sold  (as  we  are  told) 

A  charm  for  folk  love-sick,  sir! 


Napoleon  knew  a  thing  or  two, 

And  clearly  he  was  partial 
To  doctors,  for,  in  time  of  war, 

He  chose  one  for  marshal, 
In  our  great  cause  a  doctor  was 

The  first  to  pass  death's  portal, 
And  Warren's  name  at  once  became 

A  beacon  and  immortal! 


A  heap,  indeed,  of  what  we  read 
By  doctors  is  provided, 

For  to  those  groves  Apollo  loves 
Their  leaning  is  decided ; 


HOOSIER  LYRICS.  153 

Deny  who  may  that  Rabelais 

Is  first  in  wit  and  learning — 
And  yet  all  smile  and  marvel  while 

His  brilliant  leaves  they're  turning. 


How  Lever's  pen  has  charmed  all  men — 

How  touching  Rab  's  short  story ! 
And  I  will  stake  my  all  that  Drake 

Is  still  the  schoolboy's  glory! 
A  doctor-man  it  was  began 

Great  Britain's  great  museum; 
The  treasures  there  are  all  so  rare, 

It  drives  me  wild  to  see  'em! 


There's  Cuvier,  Parr  and  Rush — they  are 

Big  monuments  to  learning; 
To  Mitchell's  prose  (how  smooth  it  flows!) 

We  all  are  fondly  turning; 
Tomes  might  be  writ  of  that  keen  wit 

Which  Abernethy's  famed  for — 
With  bread-crumb  pills  he  cured  the  ills 

Most  doctors  get  blamed  for! 


In  modern  times  the  noble  rhymes 
Of  Holmes  (a  great  physician!) 

Have  solace  brought  and  wisdom  taught 
To  hearts  of  all  conditions. 


154  HOOSIER  LYRICS. 

The  sailor  bound  for  Puget  sound 
Finds  pleasure  still  unfailing, 

If  he  but  troll  the  barcarole 
Old  Osborne  wrote  on  Whaling! 

If  there  were  need  I  could  proceed 

Ad  naus,  with  this  prescription, 
But,  inter  nos,  a  larger  dose 

Might  give  you  fits  conniption; 
Yet,  ere  I  end,  there's  one  dear  friend 

I'd  hold  before  these  others, 
For  he  and  I  in  years  gone  by, 

Have  chummed  around  like  brothers. 

Together  we  have  sung  in  glee 

The  songs  old  Horace  made  for 
Our  genial  craft — together  quaffed 

What  bowls  that  doctor  paid  for! 
I  love  the  rest,  but  love  him  best, 

And,  were  not  times  so  pressing, 
I'd  buy  and  send — you  smile,  old  friend? 

Well,  then,  here  goes  my  blessing. 


HOOSIEE  LYRICS.  155 


BEN  APFELGARTEN. 


There  was  a  certain  gentleman,  Ben  Apfelgarten 

called, 

Who  lived  way  off  in  Germany  a  many  years  ago, 
And  he  was  very  fortunate  in  being  very  bald, 
And  so  was  very  happy  he  was  so. 
He  warbled  all  the  day 
Such  songs  as  only  they 
Who  are  very,  very  circumspect  and  very    happy 

may; 

The  people  wondered  why, 
As  the  years  went  grinding  by, 
They  never  heard  him  once  complain  or  even  heava 
a  sigh! 

The  women  of  the  province  fell  in  love  with  genial 

Ben, 
Till  (maybe  you  can  fancy  it)  the  dickens  was  to 

pay 
Among  the  callow  students  and  the  sober-minded 

men — 

With  the  women  folk  a-cuttin'  up  that  way ! 
Why,  they  gave  him  turbans  red 
To  adorn  his  hairless  head, 

And  knitted  jaunty  nightcaps  to  protect  him  when 
abed! 


156  HOOSIER  LYRICS. 

In  vain  the  rest  demurred — 
Not  a  single  chiding  word 

Those  ladies  deigned  to  tolerate — remonstrance  was 
absurd ! 


Things  finally  got  into  such  a  very  dreadful  way 
That  the  others   (oh,  how  artful!)   formed  the 

politic  design 
To  send  him  to  the  reichstag ;  so,  one  dull  November 

day 

They  elected  him  a  member  from  the  Rhine ! 
Then  the  other  members  said : 
"Gott  in  Himmel;  what  a  head!" 
But  they  marveled  when  his  speeches  they  listened 

to  or  read ; 

And  presently  they  cried: 
"There  must  be  heaps  inside 

Of  the  smooth  and  shiny  cranium  his  constituents 
deride!" 


Well,  when  at  last  he  up  'nd  died — long  past  his 

ninetieth  year — 
The  strangest  and  the  most  luguberous  funeral 

he  had, 
For  women  came  in  multitudes  to  weep  upon  his 

bier — 

The  men  all  wond'ring  why  on  earth  the  women 
had  gone  mad! 


HOOSIER  LYRICS.  157 

And  this  wonderment  increased, 
Till  the  sympathetic  priest 
Inquired  of  those  same  ladies:     "Why  this  fuss 

about  deceased?" 
"Whereupon  the  were  appalled, 
For,  as  one,  those  women  squalled : 
"We  doted  on  deceased  for  being  bald — bald — 
bald!" 


He  was  bald  because  his  genius  burnt  that  shock  of 

hair  away, 
Which,  elsewise,  clogs  one's  keenness  and  activity 

of  mind, 
And   (barring  present  company,  of  course,)    I'm 

free  to  say 

That,  after  all,  it's  intellect  that  captures  woman- 
kind. 

At  any  rate,  since  then 
(With  a  precedent  in  Ben), 

The  women-folk  have  been  in  love  with  us  bald- 
headed  men ! 


158  SOOSIER  LYRICS. 


IN  HOLLAND. 


Our  course  lay  up  a  smooth  canal 

Through  tracks  of  velvet  green, 
And  through  the  shade  that  windmills  made, 

And  pasture  lands  between. 
The  kine  had  canvas  on  their  backs 

To  temper  Autumn's  spite, 
And  everywhere  there  was  an  air 

Of  comfort  and  delight. 


My  wife,  dear  philosophic  soul ! 
Saw  here  whereof  to  prate: 

"Vain  fools  are  we  across  the  sea 
To  boast  our  nobler  state ! 

Go  north  or  south  or  east  or  west, 
Or  wheresoe'er  you  please, 

You  shall  not  find  what's  here  combined- 
Equality  and  ease! 


"How  tidy  are  these  honest  homes 
In  every  part  and  nook — 

The  men  folk  wear  a  prosperous  air, 
The  women  happy  look. 


HOOSIER  LYRICS.  159 

Seeing  the  peace  that  smiles  around, 

I  would  our  land  was  such — 
Think  as  you  may,  I'm  free  to  say 

I  would  we  were  the  Dutch ! ' ' 


Just  then  we  overtook  a  boat 

(The  Golden  Tulip  hight)  — 
Big  with  the  weight  of  motley  freight, 

It  was  a  goodly  sight! 
Meynheer  van  Blarcom  sat  on  deck, 

With  pipe  in  lordly  pose, 
And  with  his  son  of  twenty-one 

He  played  at  dominoes. 


Then  quoth  my  wife:  "How  fair  to  see 

This  sturdy,  honest  man 
Beguile  all  pain  and  lust  of  gain 

With  whatso  joys  he  can; 
Methinks  his  spouse  is  down  below 

Beading  a  kerchief  gay — 
A  babe,  mayhap,  lolls  in  her  lap 

In  the  good  old  Milky  way. 


'Where  in  the  land  from  whence  we  came 

Is  there  content  like  this — 
Where  such  disdain  of  sordid  gain, 
Such  sweet  domestic  bliss? 


160  HOOSIER  LYRICS. 

A  homespun  woman  I,  this  land 
Delights  me  overmuch — 

Think  as  you  will  and  argue  still, 
I  like  the  honest  Dutch." 


And  then  my  wife  made  end  of  speech — 

Her  voice  stuck  in  her  throat, 
For,  swinging  around  the  turn,  we  found 

What  motor  moved  the  boat; 
Hitched  up  in  tow-path  harness  there 

Was  neither  horse  nor  cow, 
But  the  buxom  frame  of  a  Hollandische  dam* 

Meynheer  van  Blarcom's  frau. 


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H?69 


